/MIMCEtlY 

f  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OP 
CALIFORNIA 


THE  STORE  BOY 

OR 

THE  FORTUNES  OF  BEN  BARCLAY 


BY 


HORATIO   ALGER,  JR. 

Author  of  "Erie  Train  Boy,"  "Young  Acrobat," 

"Only  an  Irish  Boy,"  "Bound  to  Rise," 

"Strong  and  Steady,"  "Julius, 

the  Street  Boy,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK: 
HURST  &  COMPANY, 

PUBLISHERS. 


WAN  STACK 


THE  STORE  BOY. 


CHAPTER    I. 

BEN  BARCLAY  MEETS  A  TRAMP. 

"GIVE  me  a  ride?" 

Ben  Barclay  checked  the  horse  he  was  driv- 
ing and  looked  attentively  at  the  speaker.  He 
was  a  stout-built,  dark-complexioned  man,  with 
a  beard  of  a  week's  growth,  wearing  an  old  and 
dirty  suit,  which  would  have  reduced  any 
tailor  to  despair  if  taken  to  him  for  cleaning 
and  repairs.  A  loose  hat,  with  a  torn  crown, 
surmounted  a  singularly  ill-flavored  visage. 

"A  tramp,  and  a  hard-looking  one !"  said  Ben 
to  himself. 

He  hesitated  about  answering,  being  natu- 
rally reluctant  to  have  such  a  traveling  com- 
panion. 

"Well,  what  do  you  say?"  demanded  the 
tramp,  rather  impatiently.  "There's  plenty  of 
room  on  that  seat,  and  I'm  dead  tired." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  said  Ben. 


232 


2  The    Store    Boy. 

"Same  way  you  are — to  Pentonville." 

"You  can  ride,"  said  Ben,  in  a  tone  by  no 
means  cordial,  and  he  halted  his  horse  till  his 
unsavory  companion  climbed  into  the  wagon. 

They  were  two  miles  from  Pentonville,  and 
Ben  had  a  prospect  of  a  longer  ride  than  he 
desired  under  the  circumstances.  His  com- 
panion pulled  out  a  dirty  clay  pipe  from  his 
pocket,  and  filled  it  with  tobacco,  and  then  ex- 
plored another  pocket  for  a  match.  A  mut- 
tered oath  showed  that  he  failed  to  find  one. 

"Got  a,  match,  boy?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  answered  Ben,  glad  to  have  escaped 
the  offensive  fumes  of  the  pipe. 

"Just  my  luck !"  growled  the  tramp,  putting 
back  the  pipe  with  a  look  of  disappointment. 
"If  you  had  a  match  now,  I  wouldn't  mind  let- 
ting you  have  a  whiff  or  two." 

"I  don't  smoke,"  answered  Ben,  hardly  able 
to  repress  a  look  of  disgust. 

"So  you're  a  good  boy,  eh?  One  of  the  Sun- 
day-school kids  that  want  to  be  an  angel,  hey? 
Pah!"  and  the  tramp  exhibited  the  disgust 
which  the  idea  gave  him. 

"Yes,  I  go  to  Sunday-school,"  said  Ben, 
coldly,  feeling  more  and  more  repelled  by  his 
companion. 

"I  never  went  to  Sunday-school,"  said  his 
companion.  "And  I  wouldn't.  It's  only  good 
for  milksops  and  hypocrites."  ^^ 

"Do  you  think  you're  any  better  for  not  go- 
Ben  couldn't  help  asking. 


The    Store    Boy.  3 

"I  haven't  been  so  prosperous,  if  that's  what 
you  mean.  I'm  a  straightforward  man,  I  am. 
You  always  know  where  to  find  me.  There 
ain't  no  piety  about  me.  What  are  you  laughin' 
at?" 

"No  offense,"  said  Ben.  "I  believe  every 
word  you  say." 

"You'd  better.     I  don't  allow  no  man  to 
doubt  my  word,  nor  no  boy,  either.     Have  you 
got  a  quarter  about  you?" 
-  "No." 

"Nor  a  dime?    A  dime'll  do." 

"I  have  no  money  to  spare." 

"I'd  pay  yer  to-morrer." 

"You'll  have  to  borrow  elsewhere;  I  am 
working  in  a  store  for  a  very  small  salary,  and 
that  I  pay  over  to  my  mother." 

"Whose  store?" 

"Simon  Crawford's ;  but  you  won't  know  any 
better  for  my  telling  you  that,  unless  you  are 
acquainted  in  Pentonville." 

"I've  been  through  there.  Crawford  keeps 
the  grocery  store." 

"Yes." 

"What's  your  name?" 

"Ben  Barclay,"  answered  our  hero,  feeling 
rather  annoyed  at  what  he  considered  intrusive 
curiosity. 

"Barclay?"  replied  the  tramp,  quickly.  "Not 
John  Barclay's  son?" 

It  was  Ben's  turn  to  be  surprised.  He  was 
the  son  of  John  Barclay,  deceased,  but  how 


4  The    Store    Boy. 

could  his  ill-favored  traveling  companion  know 
that? 

"Did  you  know  my  father?"  asked  the  boy, 
astonished. 

"Fve  heerd  his  name,"  answered  the  tramp, 
in  an  evasive  tone. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  Ben,  feeling 
that  he  had  a  right  to  be  as  curious  as  his  com- 
panion. 

"I  haven't  got  any  visitin'  cards  with  me," 
answered  the  tramp,  dryly. 

"Nor  I ;  but  I  told  you  my  name." 

"All  right ;  I'll  tell  you  mine.  You  can  call 
me  Jack  Frost." 

"I  gave  you  my  real  name,"  said  Ben,  sig- 
nificantly. 

"I've  almost  forgotten  what  my  real  name 
is,"  said  the  tramp.  "If  you  don't  like  Jack 
Frost,  you  can  call  me  George  Washington." 

Ben  laughed. 

"I  don't  think  that  name  would  suit,"  he 
said.  "George  Washington  never  told  a  lie." 

"What  d'ye  mean  by  that?"  demanded  the 
tramp,  his  brow  darkening. 

"I  was  joking,"  answered  Ben,  who  did  not 
care  to  get  into  difficulty  with  such  a  man. 

"I'm  going  to  joke  a  little  myself,"  growled 
the  tramp,  as,  looking  quickly  about  him,  he 
observed  that  they  were  riding  over  a  lonely 
section  of  the  road  lined  with  woods.  "Have 
you  got  any  money  about  you?" 

Ben,  taken  by  surprise,  would  have  been  glad 


The    Store    Boy.  5 

to  answer  "No,"  but  he  was  a  boy  of  truth,  and 
could  not  say  so  truly,  though  he  might  have 
felt  justified  in  doing  so  under  the  circum- 
stances. 

"Come,  I  see  you  have.  Give  it  to  me  right 
off  or  it'll  be  the  worse  for  you." 

Now  it  happened  that  Ben  had  not  less  than 
twenty-five  dollars  about  him.  He  had  carried 
some  groceries  to  a  remote  part  of  the  town, 
and  collected  two  bills  on  the  way.  All  this 
money  he  had  in  a  wallet  in  the  pocket  on  the 
other  side  from  the  tramp.  But  the  money  was 
not  his;  it  belonged  to  his  employer,  and  he 
was  not  disposed  to  give  it  up  without  a  strug- 
gle, though  he  knew  that  in  point  of  strength 
he  was  not  an  equal  match  for  the  man  beside 
him. 

"You  will  get  no  money  from  me,"  he  an- 
swered, in  a  firm  tone,  though  he  felt  far  from 
comfortable. 

"I  won't,  hey!"  growled  the  tramp.  "D'ye 
think  I'm  goin'  to  let  a  boy  like  you  get  the  best 
of  me?" 

He  clutched  Ben  by  the  arm,  and  seemed  in 
a  fair  way  to  overcome  opposition  by  superior 
strength,  when  a  fortunate  idea  struck  Ben. 
In  his  vest  pocket  was  a  silver  dollar,  which 
had  been  taken  at  the  store,  but,  proving  to  be 
counterfeit,  had  been  given  to  Ben  by  Mr. 
Crawford  as  a  curiosity. 

This  Ben  extracted  from  his  pocket,  and 
flung  out  by  the  roadside, 


6  The    Store    Boy. 

"If  you  want  it,  you'll  have  to  get  out  and 
get  it,"  he  said. 

The  tramp  saw  the  coin  glistening  upon  the 
ground,  and  had  no  suspicion  of  its  not  being 
genuine.  It  was  not  much — only  a  dollar— 
but  he  was  "dead  broke,"  and  it  was  worth 
picking  up.  He  had  not  expected  that  Ben 
had  much,  and  so  was  not  disappointed. 

"Curse  you !"  he  said,  relinquishing  his  hold 
upon  Ben.  "Why  couldn't  you  give  it  to  me 
instead  of  throwing  it  out  there?" 

"Because,"  answered  Ben,  boldly,  "I  didn't 
want  you  to  have  it." 

"Get  out  and  get  it  for  me !" 

"I  won't !"  answered  Ben,  firmly. 

"Then  stop  the  horse,  and  give  me  a  chance 
to  get  out." 

"I'll  do  that." 

Ben  brought  the  horse  to  a  halt,  and  his 
unwelcome  passenger  descended,  much  to  his 
relief.  He  had  to  walk  around  the  wagon  to 
get  at  the  coin.  Our  hero  brought  down  the 
whip  with  emphasis  on  the  horse's  back,  and 
the  animal  dashed  off  at  a  good  rate  of  speed. 

"Stop!"  exclaimed  the  tramp,  but  Ben  had 
no  mind  to  heed  his  call. 

"No,  my  friend,  you  don't  get  another 
chance  to  ride  with  me,"  he  said  to  himself. 

The  tramp  picked  up  the  coin,  and  his  prac- 
ticed eye  detected  that  it  was  bogus. 

"The  young  villain!"  he  muttered,  angrily. 
"I'd  like  to  wring  his  neck.  It's  a  bad  one, 


The    Store    Boy.  7 

after  all."  He  looked  after  the  receding  team, 
and  was  half  disposed  to  follow,  but  he  changed 
his  mind,  reflecting,  "I  can  pass  it,  anyhow." 

Instead  of  pursuing  his  journey,  he  made  his 
way  into  the  woods,  and,  stretching  himself 
out  among  the  underbrush)  went  to  sleep. 

Half  a  mile  before  reaching  the  store,  Ben 
overtook  Rose  Gardiner,  who  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  the  prettiest  girl  in  Pentonville — 
at  any  rate,  such  was  Ben's  opinion.  She 
looked  up  and  smiled  pleasantly  as  Ben  took 
off  his  hat. 

"Shall  you  attend  Prof.  Harrington's  enter- 
tainment at  the  Town  Hall  this  evening,  Ben?" 
she  asked,  after  they  had  interchanged  greet- 
ings. 

"I  should  like  to  go,"  answered  Ben,  "but  I 
am  afraid  I  can't  be  spared  from  the  store. 
Shall  you  go?" 

"I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  anything.  I  hope  I 
shall  see  you  there." 

"I  shall  want  to  go  all  the  more  then,"  an- 
swered Ben,  gallantly. 

"You  say  that  to  flatter  me,"  said  the  young 
lady,  with  an  arch  smile. 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Ben,  earnestly.  "Won't 
you  get  in  and  ride  as  far  as  the  store?" 

"Would  it  be  proper?"  asked  Miss  Rose,  de- 
murely. 

"Of  course  it  would." 

"Then  I'll  venture." 


8  The    Store    Boy. 

Ben  jumped  from  the  wagon,  assisted  the 
young  lady  in,  and  the  two  drove  into  the  vil- 
lage together.  He  liked  his  second  passenger 
considerably  better  than  the  first. 


The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER   II. 

BEN   AND   HIS   MOTHER. 

BEN  BARCLAY,  after  taking  leave  of  the 
tramp,  lost  no  time  in  driving  to  the  grocery 
store  where  he  was  employed.  It  was  a  large 
country  store,  devoted  not  to  groceries  alone, 
but  supplies  of  dry-goods,  boots  and  shoes,  and 
the  leading  articles  required  in  the  community. 
There  were  two  other  clerks  beside  Ben,  one 
the  son,  another  the  nephew,  of  Simon  Craw- 
ford, the  proprietor. 

"Did  you  collect  any  money,  Ben?"  asked 
Simon,  who  chanced  to  be  standing  at  the  door 
when  our  hero  drove  up. 

" Yes,  sir ;  I  collected  twenty-five  dollars,  but 
came  near  losing  it  on  the  way  home." 

"How  was  that?  I  hope  you  were  not  care- 
less." 

"No,  except  in  taking  a  stranger  as  passen- 
ger. When  we  got  to  that  piece  of  woods  a 
mile  back,  he  asked  me  for  all  the  money  I 
had." 


lo  The    Store    Boy. 

"A  highwayman,  and  so  near  Pentonville!" 
ejaculated  Simon  Crawford.  "What  was  he 
like?" 

"A  regular  tramp." 

"Yet  you  say  you  have  the  money.  How  did 
you  manage  to  keep  it  from  him?" 

Ben  detailed  the  stratagem  of  which  he  made 
use. 

"You  did  well,"  said  the  storekeeper,  approv- 
ingly. "I  must  give  you  a  dollar  for  the  one 
you  sacrificed." 

"But,  sir,  it  was  bad  money.  I  couldn't 
have  passed  it." 

"That  does  not  matter.  You  are  entitled  to 
some  reward  for  the  courage  and  quick  wit  you 
displayed.  Here  is  a  dollar,  and — let  me  see, 
there  is  an  entertainment  at  the  Town  Hall  this 
evening,  isn't  there?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Prof.  Harrington,  the  magician, 
gives  an  entertainment,"  said  Ben,  eagerly. 

"At  what  time  does  it  commence?" 

"At  eight  o'clock." 

"You  may  leave  the  store  at  half-past  seven. 
That  will  give  you  time  enough  to  get  there." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  I  wanted  to  go  to  the  en- 
tertainment, but  did  not  like  to  ask  for  the 
evening." 

"You  have  earned  it.  Here  is  the  dollar," 
and  Mr.  Crawford  handed  the  money  to  his 
young  clerk,  who  received  it  gratefully. 

A  magical  entertainment  may  be  a  very  com- 
mon affair  to  my  young  readers  in  the  city, 


The    Store    Boy.      *•  11 

but  in  a  country  village  it  is  an  event.  Pen- 
tonville  was  too  small  to  have  any  regular 
place  of  amusement,  and  its  citizens  were 
obliged  to  depend  upon  traveling  performers, 
who,  from  time  to  time,  engaged  the  Town  Hall. 
Some  time  had  elapsed  since  there  had  been 
any  such  entertainment,  and  Prof.  Harrington 
was  the  more  likely  to  be  well  patronized. 
Ben,  who  had  the  love  of  amusement  common 
to  boys  of  his  age,  had  been  regretting  the 
necessity  of  remaining  in  the  store  till  nine 
o'clock,  and  therefore  losing  his  share  of  amuse- 
ment when,  as  we  have  seen,  an  opportunity 
suddenly  offered. 

"I  am  glad  I  met  the  tramp,  after  all,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "He  has  brought  me  luck." 

At  supper  he  told  his  mother  what  had  be- 
fallen him,  but  she  took  a  more  serious  view  of 
it  than  he  did. 

"He  might  have  murdered  you,  Ben,"  she 
said,  with  a  shudder. 

"Oh,  no;  he  wouldn't  do  that.  He  might 
have  stolen  Mr.  Crawford's  money;  that  was 
the  most  that  was  likely  to  happen." 

"I  didn't  think  there  were  highwaymen 
about  here.  Now  I  shall  be  worrying  about 
you." 

"Don't  do  that,  mother;  I  don't  feel  in  any 
danger.  Still,  if  ~ou  think  best,  I  will  carry  a 
pistol." 

"No,  no,  Ben!  it  might  go  off  and  kill  you. 
I  would  rather  run  the  risk  of  a  highwayman. 


12  The    Store    Boy. 

I  wonder  if  the  man's  prowling  about  in  the 
neighborhood  yet?"  f 

"I  don't  think  my  bogus  dollar  will  carry 
him  very  far.  By  the  way,  mother,  I  must  tell 
you  one  strange  thing.  He  asked  me  if  I  was 
John  Barclay's  son." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Barclay,  in  a  tone 
of  great  surprise.  "Did  he  know  your  name 
was  Barclay?" 

"Not  till  I  told  him.  Then  it  was  he  asked 
if  I  was  the  son  of  John  Barclay." 

"Did  he,  say  he  knew  your  father?" 

"I  asked  him,  but  he  answered  evasively." 

"He  might  have  seen  some  resemblance — 
that  is,  if  he  had  ever  met  your  father.  Ah! 
it  was  a  sad  day  for  us  all  when  your  poor 
father  died.  We  should  have  been  in  a  very 
different  position,"  the  widow  sighed. 

"Yes,  mother,"  said  Ben;  "but  when  I  get 
older  I  will  try  to  supply  my  father's  place,  and 
relieve  you  from  care  and  trouble." 

"You  are  doing  that  in  a  measure  now,  my 
dear  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Barclay,  affectionately. 
"You  are  a  great  comfort  to  me." 

Ben's  answer  was  to  go  up  to  his  mother  and 
kiss  her.  Some  boys  of  his  age  are  ashamed  to 
show  their  love  for  the  mother  who  is  devoted 
to  them,  but  it  is  a  false  shame,  that  does  them 
no  credit. 

"Still,  mother,  you  work  too  hard,"  said 
Ben.  "Wait  till  f  am  a  man,  and  you  shall 
not  need  to  work  at  all." 


The    Store    Boy.  13 

Mrs.  Barclay  had  been  a  widow  for  five  years. 
Her  husband  had  been  a  commercial  traveler, 
but  had  contracted  a  fever  at  Chicago,  and 
died  after  a  brief  illness,  without  his  wife  hav- 
ing the  satisfaction  of  ministering  to  him  in  his 
last  days.  A  small  sum  due  him  from  his  em- 
ployers was  paid  over  to  his  family,  but  no 
property  was  discovered,  though  his  wife  had 
been  under  the  impression  that  her  husband 
possessed  some.  He  had  never  been  in  the 
habit  of  confiding  his  business  affairs  to  her, 
and  so,  if  he  had  investments  of  any  kind,  she 
could  not  learn  anything  about  them.  She 
found  herself,  therefore,  with  no  property  ex- 
cept a  small  cottage,  worth,  with  its  quarter 
acre  of  land,  perhaps  fifteen  hundred  dollars. 
As  Ben  was  too  small  to  earn  anything,  she  had 
been  compelled  to  raise  about  seven  hundred 
dollars  on  mortgage,  which  by  this  time  had 
been  expended  for  living.  Now,  Ben  was 
earning  four  dollars  a  week,  and,  with  her  own 
earnings,  she  was  able  to  make  both  ends  meet 
without  further  encroachments  upon  her 
scanty  property;  but  the  mortgage  was  a 
source  of  anxiety  to  her,  especially  as  it  was 
held  by  Squire  Davenport,  a  lawyer  of  con- 
siderable means,  who  was  not  overscrupulous 
about  the  methods  by  which  he  strove  to  in- 
crease his  hoards.  Should  he  at  any  time  take 
it  into  his  head  to  foreclose,  there  was  no  one 
to  whom  Mrs.  Barclay  could  apply  to  assume 
the  mortgage,  and  she  was  likely  to  be  com- 


14  The    Store    Boy. 

pelled  to  sacrifice  her  home.  He  had  more 
than  once  hinted  that  he  might  need  the  money, 
but  as  yet  had  gone  no  further. 

Mrs.  Barclay  had  one  comfort,  however,  and 
a  great  one.  This  was  a  good  son.  Ben  was 
always  kind  to  his  mother — a  bright,  popular, 
promising  boy — and  though  at  present  he  was 
unable  to  earn  much,  in  a  few  years  he  would 
be  able  to  earn  a  good  income,  and  then  his 
mother  knew  that  she  would  be  well  provided 
for.  So  she  did  not  allow  herself  to  borrow 
trouble,  but  looked  forward  hopefully,  thank- 
ing God  for  what  He  had  given  her. 

"Won't  you  go  up  to  the  Town  Hall  with  me, 
mother?"  asked  Ben.  "I  am  sure  you  would 
enjoy  it." 

"Thank  you,  Ben,  for  wishing  me  to  have  a 
share  in  your  amusements,"  his  mother  re- 
plied, "but  I  have  a  little  headache  this  eve- 
ning, and  I  shall  be  better  off  at  home." 

"It  isn't  on  account  of  the  expense  you  de- 
cline, mother,  is  it?  You  know  Mr.  Crawford 
gave  me  a  dollar,  and  the  tickets  are  but 
twenty-five  cents." 

"No,  it  isn't  that,  Ben.  If  it  were  a  concert 
I  might  be  tempted  to  go  in  spite  of  my  head- 
ache, but  a  magical  entertainment  would  not 
amuse  me  as  much  as  it  will  you." 

"Just  as  you  think  best,  mother;  but  I  should 
like  to  have  you  go.  You  won't  feel  lonely, 
will  you?" 


The    Store    Boy.  15 

"I  am  used  to  being  alone  till  nine  o'clock, 
when  you  are  at  the  store." 

This  conversation  took  place  at  the  supper- 
table.  Ben  went  directly  from  the  store  to  the 
Town  Hall,  where  he  enjoyed  himself  as  much 
as  he  anticipated.  If  he  could  have  foreseen 
how  his  mother  was  to  pass  that  evening,  it 
would  have  destroyed  all  his  enjoyment. 


1 6  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER    III. 

MRS.    BARCLAY^    CALLERS. 

ABOUT  half-past  eight  o'clock,  Mrs.  Barclay 
sat  with  her  work  in  her  hand.  Her  headache 
was  better,  but  she  did  not  regret  not  having 
accompanied  Ben  to  the  Town  Hall. 

"I  am  glad  Ben  is  enjoying  himself,"  she 
thought,  "but  I  would  rather  stay  quietly  at 
home.  Poor  boy!  he  works  hard  enough,  and 
needs  recreation  now  and  then." 

Just  then  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  outside 
door. 

"I  wonder  who  it  can  be?"  thought  the 
widow.  "I  supposed  everybody  would  be  at 
the  Town  Hall.  It  may  be  Mrs.  Perkins  come 
to  borrow  something." 

Mrs.  Perkins  was  a  neighbor  much  addicted 
to  borrowing,  which  was  rather  disagreeable, 
but  might  have  been  more  easily  tolerated  but 
that  she  seldom  returned  the  articles  lent. 

Mrs.  Barclay  went  to  the  door  and  opened 
it,  fully  expecting  to  see  her  borrowing  neigh- 
bor. A  very  different  person  met  her  view. 
The  ragged  hat,  the  ill-looking  face,  the  neg- 


The    Store    Boy.  17 

lected  attire,  led  her  to  recognize  the  tramp 
whom  Ben  had  described  to  her  as  having 
attempted  to  rob  him  in  the  afternoon.  Ter- 
rified, Mrs.  Barclay's  first  impulse  was  to  shut 
the  door  and  bolt  it.  But  her  unwelcome 
visitor  was  too  quick  for  her.  Thrusting  his 
foot  into  the  doorway,  he  interposed  an  effec- 
tual obstacle  in  the  way  of  shutting  the  door. 

."No,  you  don't,  ma'am!"  he  said,  with  a 
laugh.  "I  understand  your  little  game.  You 
want  to  shut  me  out." 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  the  widow, 
apprehensively. 

"What  do  I  want?"  returned  the  tramp. 
"Well,  to  begin  with,  I  want  something  to  eat 
— and  drink,"  he  added  after  4a  pause. 

"Why  don't  you  go  to  the  tavern?"  asked 
Mrs.  Barclay,  anxious  for  him  to  depart. 

"Well,  I  can't  afford  it.  All  the  money  I've 
got  is  a  bogus  dollar  your  rogue  of  a  son  gave 
me  this  afternoon." 

"You  stole  it  from  him,"  said  the  widow,  in- 
dignantly. 

"What's  the  odds  if  I  did.  It  ain't  of  no 
value.  Come,  haven't  you  anything  to  eat  in 
the  house?  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  wolf." 

"And  you  look  like  one !"  thought  Mrs.  Bar- 
clay, glancing  at  his  unattractive  features ;  but 
she  did  not  dare  to  say  it. 

There  seemed  no  way  of  refusing,  and  she 
was  glad  to  comply  with  his  request,  if  by  so 
doing  she  could  soon  get  rid  of  him. 


i8  The    Store    Boy. 

"Stay  here,"  she  said,  "and  I'll  bring  you 
some  bread  and  butter  and  cold  meat." 

"Thank  you,  I'd  rather  come  in,"  said  the 
tramp,  and  he  pushed  his  way  through  the 
partly  open  door. 

She  led  the  way  uneasily  into  the  kitchen 
just  in  the  rear  of  the  sitting-room  where  she 
had  been  seated. 

"I  wish  Ben-  was  here,"  she  said  to  herself, 
with  sinking  heart. 

The  tramp  seated  himself  at  the  kitchen 
table,  while  Mrs.  Barclay,  going  to  the  pantry, 
brought  out  part  of  a  loaf  of  bread,  and  butter, 
and  a  few  slices  of  cold  beef,  which  she  set  be- 
fore him.  Without  ceremony  he  attacked  the 
viands  and  ate  as  if  half  famished.  When 
about  half  through,  he  turned  to  the  widow, 
and  asked : 

"Haven't  you  some  whiskey  in  the  house?" 

"I  never  keep  any,"  answered  Mrs.  Barclay. 

"Kum  or  gin,  then?  I  ain't  partic'lar.  I 
want  something  to  warm  me  up." 

"I  keep  no  liquor  of  any  kind.  I  don't  ap- 
prove of  drink,  or  want  Ben  to  touch  it." 

"Oh,  you  belong  to  the  cold  water  army,  do 
you?"  said  the  tramp,  with  a  sneer.  "Give  me 
some  coffee,  then." 

"I  have  no  fire,  and  cannot  prepare  any." 

"What  have  you  got,  then?"  demanded  the 
unwelcome  guest,  impatiently. 

"I  can  give  you  a  glass  of  excellent  well  wa- 
ter." 


The    Store    Boy.  19 

"Faugh!  Do  you  want  to  choke  me?"  re- 
turned the  tramp,  in  disgust. 

"Suppose  I  mix  you  some  molasses  and  wa- 
ter," suggested  the  widow,  anxious  to  propi- 
tiate her  dangerous  guest. 

"Humph !  Well,  that  will  do,  if  you've  got 
nothing  better.  Be  quick  about  it,  for  my 
throat  is  parched." 

As  soon  as  possible  the  drink  was  prepared 
and  set  beside  his  plate.  He  drained  it  at  a 
draught,  and  called  for  a  second  glass,  which 
was  supplied  him.  Presently,  for  all  things 
must  have  an  end,  the  tramp's  appetite  seemed 
to  be  satisfied.  He  threw  himself  back  in  his 
chair,  stretched  his  legs,  and,  with  both  hands 
in  his  pockets,  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  widow. 

"I  feel  better,"  he  said. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mrs.  Barclay. 
"Now,  if  you'll  be  kind  enough,  leave  the  house, 
for  I  expect  Ben  back  before  long." 

"And  you  don't  want  him  to  get  hurt," 
laughed  the  tramp.  "Well,  I  do  owe  him  a 
flogging  for  the  trick  he  played  on  me." 

"Oh,  pray,  go  away !"  said  Mrs.  Barclay,  ap- 
prehensively. "I  have  given  you  some  sup- 
per, and  that  ought  to  satisfy  you." 

"I  can't  go  away  till  I've  talked  to  you  a 
little  on  business." 

"Business!  What  business  can  you  have 
with  me?" 

"More  than  you  think.  You  are  the  widow 
of  John  Barclay,  ain't  you?" 


20  The    Store    Boy. 

"Yes ;  did  you  know  my  husband?" 

"Yes;  that  is,  I  saw  something  of  him  just 
before  he  died." 

"Can  you  tell  me  anything  about  his  last 
moments?"  asked  the  widow,  forgetting  the 
character  of  her  visitor,  and  only  thinking  of 
her  husband* 

"No,  that  isn't  in  my  line.  I  ain't  a  doctor 
nor  yet  a  minister.  I  say,  did  he  leave  any 
money?" 

"Not  that  we  have  been  able  to  find  out. 
He  owned  this  house,  but  left  no  other  prop- 
erty." 

"That  you  know  of,"  said  the  tramp,  sig- 
nificantly. 

"Do  you  know  of  any?"  asked  Mrs.  Barclay, 
eagerly.  "How  did  you  happen  to  knowr  him?" 

"I  was  the  barkeeper  in  the  hotel  where  he 
died.  It  was  a  small  house,  not  one  of  your 
first-class  hotels." 

"My  husband  was  always  careful  of  his  ex- 
penses. He  would  not  spend  money  unnec- 
essarily. With  his  prudence  we  all  thought 
he  must  have  some  investments,  but  we  could 
discover  none." 

"Have  you  got  any  money  in  the  house?" 
asked  the  tramp,  with  seeming  abruptness. 

"Why  do  you  ask?"  returned  the  widow, 
alarmed.  "Surely,  you  would  not  rob  me?" 

"No,  I  don't  want  to  rob  you.  I  want  to 
sell  you  something." 


The    Store    Boy.  21 

"I  don't  care  to  buy.  It  takes  all  our  money 
for  necessary  expenses." 

"You  don't  ask  what  I  have  to  sell." 

"No,  because  I  cannot  buy  it,  whatever  it 
may  be." 

"It  is — a  secret,"  said  the  tramp. 

"A  secret!"  repeated  Mrs.  Barclay,  bewil- 
dered. 

"Yes,  and  a  secret  worth  buying.  Your 
husband  wasn't  so  poor  as  you  think.  He  left 
stock  and  papers  representing  three  thousand 
dollars,  and  I  am  the  only  man  who  can  put 
you  in  the  way  of  getting  it." 

Mrs.  Barclay  was  about  to  express  her  sur- 
prise, when  a  loud  knock  was  heard  at  the 
outer  door. 

"Who's  that?"  demanded  the  tramp,  quickly. 
"Is  it  the  boy?" 

"No,  he  would  not  knock." 

"Then  let  me  get  out  of  this,"  he  said,  leap- 
ing to  his  feet.  "Isn't  there  a  back  door?" 

"Yes,  there  it  is." 

He  hurried  to  the  door,  unbolted  it,  and 
made  his  escape  into  the  open  field  beyond 
the  house,  just  as  the  knock  was  repeated. 

Confused  by  Avhat  she  had  heard,  and  the 
strange  conduct  of  her  visitor,  the  widow  took 
the  lamp  and  went  to  the  door.  To  her  sur- 
prise she  found,  on  opening  it,  two  visitors, 
in  one  of  whom  she  recognized  Squire  Daven- 
port, already  referred  to  as  holding  a  mort- 
gage on  her  house.  The  other  was  a  short? 


22  The    Store    Boy. 

dark-complexioned  man,  who  looked  like  a 
mechanic. 

"Excuse  me  the  lateness  of  my  call,  Mrs. 
Barclay/'  said  the  squire,  smoothly.  "I  come 
on  important  business.  This  is  Mr.  Kirk,  a 
cousin  of  my  wife." 

"Walk  in,  gentlemen,"  said  Mrs.  Barclay. 

"This  is  a  night  of  surprises,"  she  thought 
to  herself. 


The    Store    Boy.  23 


CHAPTER  IV. 

UNPLEASANT  BUSINESS. 

IT  was  now  nine  o'clock,  rather  a  late  hour 
for  callers  in  the  country,  and  Mrs.  Barclay 
waited  not  without  curiosity  to  hear  the  na- 
ture of  the  business  which  had  brought  her 
two  visitors  at  that  time. 

"Take  seats,  gentlemen,'7  she  said,  with  the 
courtesy  habitual  to  her. 

Squire  Davenport,  who  was  disposed  to  con- 
sider that  he  had  a  right  to  the  best  of  every- 
thing, seated  himself  in  the  rocking-chair,  and 
signed  his  companion  to  a  cane-chair  beside 
him. 

"Mr.  Kirk,"  he  commenced,  "is  thinking  of 
coming  to  Pentonville  to  live." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mrs.  Barclay, 
politely.  Perhaps  she  would  not  have  said 
this  if  she  had  known  what  was  coming  next. 

"He  is  a  carpenter,"  continued  the  squire, 
"and,  as  we  have  none  in  the  village  except 
old  Mr.  Wade,  who  is  superannuated,  I  think 
he  will  find  enoijgh  to  do  to  keep  him  busy." 


24  The    Store    Boy. 

"I  should  think  so,"  assented  the  widow. 

"If  he  does  not,  I  can  employ  him  a  part 
of  the  time  on  my  land." 

"What  has  all  this  to  do  with  me?"  thought 
Mrs.  Barclay. 

She  soon  learned. 

"Of  course  he  will  need  a  house,"  pursued 
the  squire,  "and  as  his  family  is  small,  he 
thinks  this  house  will  just  suit  him." 

"But  I  don't  wish  to  sell,"  said  the  widow, 
hurriedly.  "I  need  this  house  for  Ben  and 
myself." 

"You  could  doubtless  find  other  accommo- 
dations. I  dare  say  you  could  hire  a  couple 
of  rooms  from  Elnathan  Perkins." 

"I  wouldn't  live  in  that  old  shell,"  said  Mrs. 
Barclay,  rather  indignantly,  "and  I  am  sure 
Ben  wouldn't." 

"I  apprehend  Benjamin  will  have  no  voice 
in  the  matter,"  said  Squire  Davenport,  stiffly. 
"He  is  only  a  boy." 

"He  is  my  main  support,  and  my  main  ad- 
viser," said  Mrs.  Barclay,  with  spirit,  "and 
I  shall  not  take  any  step  which  is  disagree- 
able to  him." 

Mr.  Kirk  looked  disappointed,  but  the  squire 
gave  him  an  assuring  look,  as  the  widow  could 
see. 

"Perhaps  you  may  change  your  mind,"  said 
the  squire,  significantly.  "I  am  under  the  im- 
pression that  I  hold  a  mortgage  on  this  prop- 
erty." 


The    Store    Boy.  25 

"Yes,  sir,"  assented  Mrs.  Barclay,  appre- 
hensively. 

"For  the  sum  of  seven  hundred  dollars,  if 
I  am  not  mistaken." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  shall  have  need  of  this  money  for  other 
purposes,  and  will  trouble  you  to  take  it  up." 

"I  was  to  have  three  months'  notice,"  said 
the  widow,  with  a  troubled  look. 

"I  will  give  you  three  months'  notice  to- 
night," said  the  squire. 

"I  don't  know  where  to  raise  the  money," 
faltered  Mrs.  Barclay. 

"Then  you  had  better  sell  to  my  friend  here. 
He  will  assume  the  mortgage  and  pay  you  three 
hundred  dollars." 

"But  that  will  be  only  a  thousand  dollars 
for  the  place." 

"A  very  fair  price  in  my  opinion,  Mrs.  Bar- 
clay." 

"I  have  always  considered  it  worth  fifteen 
hundred  dollars,"  said  the  widow,  very  much 
disturbed. 

"A  fancy  price,  my  dear  madam;  quite  an 
absurd  price,  I  assure  you.  What  do  you  say, 
Kirk?" 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,  squire,"  said  Kirk, 
in  a  strong,  nasal  tone.  "But  then,  women 
don't  know  anything  of  business." 

"I  know  that  you  and  your  cousin  are  try- 
ing to  take  advantage  of  my  poverty,"  said 
Mrs.  Barclay,  bitterly.  "If  you  are  a  carpen- 


26  The    Store    Boy. 

ter,  why  don't  you  build  a  house  for  yourself, 
instead  of  trying  to  deprive  me  of  mine?" 

"That's  my  business,"  said  Kirk,  rudely. 

"Mr.  Kirk  cannot  spare  the  time  to  build 
at  present,"  said  the  squire. 

"Then  why  doesn't  he  hire  rooms  from  El- 
nathan  Perkins,  as  you  just  recommended  to 
me?" 

"They  wouldn't  suit  him,"  said  the  squire, 
curtly.  "He  has  set  his  mind  on  this  house." 

"Squire  Davenport,"  said  Mrs.  Barclay,  in 
a  softened  voice,  "I  am  sure  you  cannot  un- 
derstand what  you  ask  of  me  when  you  seek 
to  take  my  home  and  turn  me  adrift.  Here 
I  lived  with  my  poor  husband;  here  my  boy 
was  born.  During  my  married  life  I  have 
had  no  other  home.  It  is  a  humble  dwell- 
ing, but  it  has  associations  and  charms  for 
me  which  it  can  have  for  no  one  else.  Let  Mr. 
Kirk  seek  some  other  house  and  leave  me  un- 
disturbed in  mine." 

"Humph!"  said  the  squire,  shrugging  his 
shoulders;  "you  look  upon  the  matter  from 
a  sentimental  point  of  view.  That  is  unwise. 
It  is  simply  a  matter  of  business.  You  speak 
of  the  house  as  yours.  In  reality,  it  is  more 
mine  than  yours,  for  I  have  a  major  interest 
in  it.  Think  over  my  proposal  coolly,  and  you 
will  see  that  you  are  unreasonable.  Mr.  Kirk 
may  be  induced  to  give  you  a  little  more — say 
three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars — over  and 


The    Store    Boy.  *  27 

above  the  mortgage,  which,  as  I  said  before, 
he  is  willing  to  assume." 

"How  does  it  happen  that  you  are  willing 
to  let  the  mortgage  remain,  if  he  buys,  when 
you  want  the  money  for  other  purposes?"  asked 
the  widow,  keenly. 

"He  is  a  near  relative  of  my  wife,  and  that 
makes  a  difference,  I  apprehend." 

"Well,  madam,  what  do  you  say?"  asked 
Kirk,  briskly. 

"I  say  this,  that  I  will  keep  the  house  if 
I  can." 

"You  needn't  expect  that  I  will  relent,"  said 
the  squire,  hastily. 

"I  do  not,  for  I  see  there  is  no  consideration 
in  your  heart  for  a  poor  widow;  but  I  can- 
not help  thinking  that  Providence  will  raise 
up  some  kind  friend  who  will  buy  the  mort- 
gage, or  in  some  other  way  will  enable  me  to 
save  my  home." 

"You  are  acting  very  foolishly,  Mrs.  Bar- 
clay, as  you  will  realize  in  time.  I  give  you 
a  week  in  which  to  change  your  mind.  Till 
then  my  friend  Kirk's  offer  stands  good. 
After  that  I  cannot  promise.  If  the  prop- 
erty is  sold  at  auction,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised 
if  it  did  not  fetch  more  than  the  amount  of 
my  lien  upon  it." 

"I  will  trust  in  Providence,  Squire  Daven- 
port." 

"Providence  won't  pay  off  your  mortgage, 
ma'am,"  said  Kirk,  with  a  coarse  laugh. 


28  The    Store    Boy. 

Mrs.  Barclay  did  not  answer.  She  saw  that 
he  was  a  man  of  coarse  fiber,  and  did  not  care 
to  notice  him. 

"Come  along,  Kirk,"  said  the  squire.  "I  ap- 
prehend she  will  be  all  right  after  a  while. 
Mrs.  Barclay  will  see  her  own  interest  when 
she  comes  to  reflect." 

"Good-evening,  ma'am,"  said  Kirk. 

Mrs.  Barclay  inclined  her  head  slowly,  but 
did  not  reply. 

When  the  two  had  left  the  house,  she  sank 
into  a  chair  and  gave  herself  to  painful 
thoughts.  She  had  known  that  Squire  Daven- 
port had  the  right  to  dispossess  her,  but  had 
not  supposed  he  would  do  so  as  long  as  she 
paid  the  interest  regularly.  In  order  to  do 
this,  she  and  Ben  had  made  earnest  efforts, 
and  denied  themselves  all  but  the  barest  ne- 
cessities. Thus  far  she  had  succeeded.  The 
interest  on  seven  hundred  dollars  at  six  per 
cent,  had  amounted  to  forty-two  dollars,  and 
this  was  a  large  sum  to  pay,  but  thus  far  they 
had  always  had  it  ready.  That  Squire  Daven- 
port, with  his  own  handsome  mansion,  would 
fix  covetous  eyes  on  her  little  home,  she  had 
not  anticipated,  but  it  had  come  to  pass. 

As  to  raising  seven  hundred  dollars  to  pay 
off  the  mortgage,  or  induce  any  capitalist  to 
furnish  it,  she  feared  it  would  be  quite  impos- 
sible. 

She  anxiously  waited  for  Ben's  return  from 
the  Town  Hall  in  order  to  consult  with  him. 


The    Store    Boy.  29 


CHAPTER  V. 

PROP.  HARRINGTON'S  ENTERTAINMENT. 

MEANWHILE  Ben  Barclay  was  enjoying  him- 
self at  Prof.  Harrington's  entertainment.  He 
was  at  the  Town  Hall  fifteen  minutes  before 
the  time,  and  secured  a  seat  very  near  the 
stage,  or,  perhaps  it  will  be  more  correct  to 
say,  the  platform.  He  had  scarcely  taken  his 
seat  when,  to  his  gratification,  Rose  Gardiner 
entered  the  hall  and  sat  down  beside  him. 

"Good-evening,  Ben,"  she  said,  pleasantly. 
"So  you  came,  after  all." 

Ben's  face  flushed  with  pleasure,  for  Rose 
Gardiner  was,  as  we  have  said,  the  prettiest 
girl  in  Pentonville,  and  for  this  reason,  as  well 
as  for  her  agreeable  manners  was  an  object 
of  attraction  to  the  boys,  who,  while  too  young 
to  be  in  love,  were  not  insensible  to  the  charms 
of  a  pretty  face.  I  may  add,  that  Rose  was 
the  niece  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gardiner,  the  minis- 
ter of  the  leading  church  in  the  village. 

"Good-evening,  Rose,"  responded  Ben,  who 
was  too  well  acquainted  with  the  young  lady 


30  The    Store    Boy. 

to  address  her  more  formally;  "I  am  glad  to  be 
in  such  company." 

"I  wish  I  could  return  the  compliment," 
answered  Kose,  with  a  saucy  smile. 

"Don't  be  too  severe/7  said  Ben,  "or  you  will 
hurt  my  feelings." 

"That  would  be  a  pity,  surely;  but  how  do 
you  happen  to  get  off  this  evening?  I  thought 
you  spent  your  evenings  at  the  store." 

"So  I  do  generally,  but  I  was  excused  this 
evening  for  a  special  reason,"  and  then  he  told 
of  his  adventure  with  the  tramp. 

Eose  listened  with  eager  attention. 

"Weren't  you  terribly  frightened?"  she 
asked. 

"No,"  answered  Ben,  adding,  with  a  smile: 
"Even  if  I  had  been,  I  shouldn't  like  to  con- 
fess it." 

"I  should  have  been  so  frightened  that  I 
would  have  screamed,"  continued  the  young 
lady. 

"I  didn't  think  of  that,"  said  Ben.  amused, 
"I'll  remember  it  next  time." 

"Oh,  now  I  know  you  are  laughing  at  me. 
Tell  me  truly,  weren't  you  frightened?" 

"I  was  only  afraid  I  might  lose  Mr.  Craw- 
ford's money.  The  tramp  was  stronger  than 
I,  and  could  have  taken  it  from  me  if  he  had 
known  I  had  it." 

"You  tricked  him  nicely.  Where  did  he  go? 
Do  you  think  he  is  still  in  town?" 

"He  went  into  the  woods.    I  don't  think  he 


The    Store    Boy.  31 

is  in  the  village.  He  would  be  afraid  of  being 
arrested." 

At  that  very  moment  the  tramp  was  in  Ben's 
kitchen,  but  of  that  Ben  had  no  idea,  M^M 

"I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  if  I  met 
him,"  said  Rose.  "You  see  I  came  alone. 
Aunt  couldn't  come  with  me,  and  uncle,  being 
a  minister,  doesn't  care  for  such  things." 

"Then  I  hope  you'll  let  me  see  you  home," 
said  Ben,  gallantly. 

"I  wouldn't  like  to  trouble  you,"  said  Rose, 
with  a  spice  of  coquetry.  "It  will  take  you 
out  of  your  way." 

"I  don't  mind  that,"  said  Ben,  eagerly. 

"Besides,  there  won't  be  any  need.  You  say 
the  tramp  isn't  in  the  village." 

"On  second  thoughts,  I  think  it  very  likely 
he  is,"  said  Ben. 

"If  you  really  think  so "  commenced 

Rose,  with  cunning  hesitation. 

"I  feel  quite  sure  of  it.  He's  a  terrible  look- 
ing fellow." 

Rose  smiled  to  herself.  She  meant  all  tho 
time  to  accept  Ben's  escort,  for  he  was  a  bright, 
attractive  boy,  and  she  liked  his  society.^  *£$ L 

"Then  perhaps  I  had  better  accept  your  of- 
fer, but  I  am  sorry  to  give  you  so  much  trou- 
ble." 

"No  trouble  at  all,"  said  Ben,  promptly. 

Just  then  Prof.  Harrington  came  forward 
and  made  his  introductory  speech. 


32  The    Store    Boy. 

"For  my  first  experiment,  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen," he  said,  when  this  was  over,  "I  should 
like  a  pocket  handkerchief." 

A  countrified-looking  young  man  on  the 
front  seat,  anxious  to  share  in  the  glory  of  the 
coming  trick,  produced  a  flaming  red  ban- 
danna from  his  pocket  and  tendered  it  with 
out-stretched  hand. 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  the  professor,  "but 
this  will  hardly  answer  my  purpose.  I  should 
prefer  a  linen  handkerchief.  Will  some  young 
lady  oblige  me?" 

"Let  him  have  yours,  Rose,"  suggested  Ben. 

Eose  had  no  objection,  and  it  was  passed 
to  the  professor. 

"The  young  lady  will  give  me  leave  to  do 
what  I  please  with  the  handkerchief?"  asked 
the  professor. 

Rose  nodded  assent. 

"Then,"  said  the  professor,  "I  will  see  if  it 
is  proof  against  fire." 

He  deliberately  unfolded  it,  crushed  it  in 
his  hand,  and  then  held  it  in  the  flame  of  a 
candle. 

Rose  uttered  a  low  ejaculation. 

"That's  the  last  of  your  handkerchief,  Rose," 
said  Ben. 

"You  made  me  give  it  to  him.  You  must 
buy  me  another,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"So  I  will,  if  you  don't  get  it  back  safe." 

"How  can  I?" 


The    Store    Boy.  33 

"I  don't  know.  Perhaps  the  professor  does," 
answered  Ben. 

"Really,"  said  the  professor,  contemplating 
the  handkerchief,  regretfully,  "I  am  afraid 
I  have  destroyed  the  handkerchief;  I  hope  the 
young  lady  will  pardon  me." 

He  looked  at  Rose,  but  she  made  no  sign. 
She  felt  a  little  disturbed,  for  it  was  a  fine 
handkerchief,  given  her  by  her  aunt. 

"I  see  the  young  lady  is  annoyed,"  continued 
the  magician.  "In  that  case  I  must  try  to  re- 
pair damages.  I  made  a  little  mistake  in  sup- 
posing the  handkerchief  to  be  non-combustible. 
However,  perhaps  matters  are  not  so  bad  as 
they  seem." 

He  tossed  the  handkerchief  behind  a  screen, 
and  moved  forward  to  a  table  on  which  was 
a  neat  box.  Taking  a  small  key  from  his 
pocket,  he  unlocked  it  and  drew  forth  before 
the  astonished  eyes  of  his  audience  the  hand- 
kerchief intact. 

"I  believe  this  is  your  handkerchief,  is  it 
not?"  he  asked,  stepping  down  from  the  plat- 
form, and  handing  it  back  to  Rose. 

"Yes,"  answered  Rose,  in  amazement,  ex- 
amining it  carefully,  and  unable  to  detect  any 
injury. 

"And  it  is  in  as  good  condition  as  when  you 
gave  it  to  me?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"So  much  the  better.  Then  I  shall  not  be 
at  the  expense  of  buying  a  new  one.  Young 


34  The    Store    Boy. 

man,  have  you  any  objections  to  lending  me 
your  hat?" 

This  question  was  addressed  to  Ben. 

"No,  sir." 

"Thank  you.  I  will  promise  not  to  burn 
it,  as  I  did  the  young  lady's  handkerchief.  You 
are  sure  there  is  nothing  in  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

By  this  time  the  magician  had  reached  the 
platform. 

"I  am  sorry  to  doubt  the  young  gentleman's 
word,"  said  the  professor,  "but  I  will  char- 
itably believe  he  is  mistaken.  Perhaps  he  for- 
got these  articles  when  he  said  it  was  empty," 
and  he  drew  forth  a  couple  of  potatoes  and 
half  a  dozen  onions  from  the  hat  and  laid 
them  on  the  table. 

There  was  a  roar  of  laughter  from  the  au- 
dience, and  Ben  looked  rather  confused,  es- 
pecially when  Kose  turned  to  him  and,  laugh- 
ing, said: 

"You've  been  robbing  Mr.  Crawford,  I  am 
afraid,  Ben." 

"The  young  gentleman  evidently  uses  his 
hat  for  a  market-basket,"  proceeded  the  pro- 
fessor. "Rather  a  strange  taste,  but  this  is 
a  free  country.  But  what  have  we  here?" 

Out  came  a  pair  of  stockings,  a  napkin  and 
a  necktie. 

"Very  convenient  to  carry  your  wardrobe 
about  with  you,"  said  the  professor,  "though 
it  is  rather  curious  taste  to  put  them  with 


The    Store    Boy.  35 

vegetables.  But  here  is  something  else,"  and 
the  magician  produced  a  small  kitten,  who 
regarded  the  audience  with  startled  eyes  and 
uttered  a  timid  moan. 

"Oh,  Ben !  let  me  have  that  pretty  kitten," 
said  Rose.  itu^'V  W 

"It's  none  of  mine !"  said  Ben,  half  annoyed, 
half  amused. 

"I  believe  there  is  nothing  more,"  said  the 
professor. 

He  carried  back  the  hat  to  Ben,  and  gave 
it  to  him,  with  the  remark: 

"Young  man,  you  may  call  for  your  veg- 
etables and  other  articles  after  the  entertain- 
ment." 

"You  are  welcome  to  them,"  said  Ben. 

"Thank  you ;  you  are  very  liberal." 

When  at  length  the  performance  was  over, 
Ben  and  Rose  moved  toward  the  door.  As 
Rose  reached  the  outer  door,  a  boy  about  Ben's 
age,  but  considerably  better  dressed,  stepped 
up  to  her,  and  said,  with  a  consequential  air: 

"I  will  see  you  home,  Miss  Gardiner." 

"Much  obliged,  Mr.  Davenport,"  said  Rose, 
"but  I  have  accepted  Ben's  escort." 


36  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

TWO  YOUNG  RIVALS. 

TOM  DAVENPORT,  for  it  was  the  son  of  Squire 
Davenport  who  had  offered  his  escort  to  Rose, 
glanced  superciliously  at  our  hero. 

"I  congratulate  you  on  having  secured  a 
grocer's  boy  as  escort/'  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
annoyance. 

Ben's  fist  contracted,  and  he  longed  to  give 
the  pretentious  aristocrat  a  lesson,  but  he  had 
the  good  sense  to  wait  for  the  young  lady's 
reply. 

"I  accept  your  congratulations,  Mr.  Daven- 
port," said  Rose,  coldly.  "I  have  no  desire  to 
change  my  escort." 

Tom  Davenport  laughed  derisively,  and 
walked  away. 

"I'd  like  to  box  his  ears,"  said  Ben,  redden- 
ing. 

"He  doesn't  deserve  your  notice,  Ben,"  said 
Rose,  taking  his  arm. 

But  Ben  was  not  easily  appeased. 

"Just  because  his  father  is  a  rich  man,"  he 
resumed. 


The    Store    Boy.  37 

"He  presumes  upon  it,"  interrupted  Kose, 
good-naturedly.  "Well,  let  him.  That's  his 
chief  claim  to  consideration,  and  it  is  natural 
for  him  to  make  the  most  of  it." 

"At  any  rate,  I  hope  that  can't  be  said  of 
me,"  returned  Ben,  his  brow  clearing.  "If  I 
had  nothing  but  money  to  be  proud  of,  I  should 
be  very  poorly  off." 

"You  wouldn't  object  to  it,  though." 

"No;  I  hope,  for  mother's  sake,  some  day  to 
be  rich." 

"Most  of  our  rich  men  were  once  poor  boys," 
said  Eose,  quietly.  "I  have  a  book  of 
biographies  at  home,  and  I  find  that  not  only 
rich  men,  but  men  distinguished  in  other  ways, 
generally  commenced  in  poverty." 

"I  wish  you'd  lend  me  that  book,"  said  Ben. 
"Sometimes  I  get  despondent  and  that  will 
give  me  courage." 

"You  shall  have  it  whenever  you  call  at  the 
house.  But  you  mustn't  think  too  much  of 
getting  money." 

"I  don't  mean  to ;  but  I  should  like  to  make 
my  mother  comfortable.  I  don't  see  much 
chance  of  it  while  I  remain  a  'grocer's  boy,' 
as  Tom  Davenport  calls  me." 

"Better  be  a  grocer's  boy  than  spend  your 
time  in  idleness,  as  Tom  does." 

"Tom  thinks  it  beneath  him  to  work." 

"If  his  father  had  been  of  the  same  mind 
when  he  was  a  boy,  he  would  never  have  be- 
come a  rich  man." 


38  The    Store    Boy. 

"Was  Squire  Davenport  a  poor  boy?" 

"Yes;  so  uncle  told  me  the  other  day.  When 
he  was  a  boy  he  worked  on  a  farm.  I  don't 
know  how  he  made  his  money,  but  I  presume 
he  laid  the  foundation  of  his  wealth  by  hard 
work.  So,  Tom  hasn't  any  right  to  look  down 
upon  those  who  are  beginning  now  as  his  fa- 
ther began.'' 

They  had  by  this  time  traversed  half  the 
distance  from  the  Town  Hall  to  the  young 
lady's  home.  The  subject  of  conversation  was 
changed  and  they  began  to  talk  about  the  eve- 
ning's entertainment.  At  length  they  reached 
the  minister's  house. 

"Won't  you  come  in,  Ben?"  asked  Rose. 

"Isn't  it  too  late?" 

"No;  uncle  always  sits  up  late  reading,  and 
aunt  will  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"Then  I  will  come  in  for  a  few  minutes." 

Ben's  few  minutes  extended  to  three-quar- 
ters of  an  hour.  When  he  came  out,  the  moon 
was  obscured  and  it  was  quite  dark.  Ben  had 
not  gone  far  when  he  heard  steps  behind  him, 
and  presently  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoul- 
der. 

"Hello,  boy!"  said  a  rough  voice. 

Ben  started,  and,  turning  suddenly,  recog- 
nized, in  spite  of  the  darkness,  the  tramp  who 
had  attempted  to  rob  him  during  the  day.  He 
paused,  uncertain  whether  he  was  not  going 
to  be  attacked,  but  the  tramp  laughed  reas- 
suringly. 


The    Store    Boy.  39 

"Don't  be  afraid,  boy,"  he  said.  "I  owe  you 
some  money,  and  here  it  is." 

He  pressed  into  the  hand  of  the  astonished 
Ben  the  dollar  which  our  hero  had  given  him. 

"I  don't  think  it  will  do  me  any  good,"  he 
said.  "I've  given  it  back,  and  now  you  can't 
say  I  robbed  you." 

"You  are  a  strange  man,"  said  Ben. 

"I'm  not  so  bad  as  I  look,"  said  the  tramp. 
"Some  day  I  may  do  you  a  service.  I'm  goin' 
out  of  town  to-night,  and  you'll  hear  from  me 
again  some  time." 

He  turned  swiftly,  and  Ben  lost  sight  of 
him. 


40  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   TRAMP   MAKES  ANOTHER   CALL. 

MY  readers  will  naturally  be  surprised  at 
the  tramp's  restitution  of  a  coin,  which,  though 
counterfeit,  he  would  probably  have  managed 
to  pass,  but  this  chapter  will  throw  some  light 
on  his  mysterious  conduct. 

When  he  made  a  sudden  exit  from  Mrs.  Bar- 
clay's house,  upon  the  appearance  of  the  squire 
and  his  friend,  he  did  not  leave  the  premises, 
but  posted  himself  at  a  window,  slightly  open, 
of  the  room  in  which  the  widow  received 
her  new  visitors.  He  listened  with  a  smile  to 
the  squire's  attempt  to  force  Mrs.  Barclay  to 
sell  her  house. 

"He's  a  sly  old  rascal !"  thought  the  tramp. 
"I'll  put  a  spoke  in  his  wheel." 

When  the  squire  and  his  wife's  cousin  left 
the  house,  the  tramp  followed  at  a  little  dis- 
tance. Not  far  from  the  squire's  handsome 
residence  Kirk  left  him,  and  the  tramp  then 
came  boldly  forward. 

"Good-evening"  he  said,  familiarly. 


The    Store    Boy.  41 

Squire  Davenport  turned  sharply,  and  as  his 
eye  fell  on  the  unprepossessing  figure,  he  in- 
stinctively put  his  hand  in  the  pocket  in  which 
he  kept  his  wallet. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  demanded,  apprehen- 
sively. 

"I  ain't  a  thief,  and  you  needn't  fear  for 
your  wallet,"  was  the  reply. 

"Let  me  pass,  fellow !  I  can  do  nothing  for 
you." 

"We'll  see  about  that!" 

"Do  you  threaten  me?"  asked  Squire  Daven- 
port, in  alarm. 

"Not  at  all ;  but  I've  got  some  business  with 
you — some  important  business." 

"Then  call  to-morrow  forenoon,"  said  Daven- 
port, anxious  to  get  rid  of  his  ill-looking  ac- 
quaintance. 

"That  won't  do;  I  want  to  leave  town  to- 
night." 

"That's  nothing  to  me." 

"It  may  be,"  said  the  tramp,  significantly. 

"1  want  to  speak  to  you  about  the  husband 
of  the  woman  you  called  on  to-night." 

"The  husband  of  Mrs.  Barclay!  Why,  he 
is  dead !"  ejaculated  the  squire,  in  surprise. 

"That  is  true.  Do  you  know  whether  he 
left  any  property?" 

"No.     I  believe  not." 

"That's  what  I  want  to  talk  about.  You'd 
better  see  me  to-night." 

There  was  significance  in  the  tone  of   the 


42  The    Store    Boy. 

tramp,  and  Squire  Davenport  looked  at  him 
searchingly. 

"Why  don't  you  go  and  see  Mrs.  Barclay 
about  this  matter?"  he  asked. 

"I  may,  but  I  think  you'd  better  see  me 
first," 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  squire's 
gate. 

"Come  in,"  he  said,  briefly. 

The  squire  led  the  way  into  a  comfortable 
sitting-room,  and  his  rough  visitor  followed 
him.  By  the  light  of  an  astral  lamp  Squire 
Davenport  looked  at  him. 

"Did  I  ever  see  you  before?"  he  asked. 

"Probably  not."' 

"Then  I  don't  see  what  business  we  can  have 
together.  I  am  tired,  and  wish  to  go  to  bed." 

"I'll  come  to  business  at  once,  then.  When 
John  Barclay  died,  in  Chicago,  a  wallet  was 
found  in  his  pocket,  and  in  that  wallet  wras  a 
promissory  note  for  a  thousand  dollars,  signed 
by  you.  I  suppose  you  have  paid  that  sum  to 
the  widow?" 

Squire  Davenport  was  the  picture  of  dismay. 
He  had  meanly  ignored  the  note,  with  the  in- 
tention of  cheating  Mrs.  Barclay.  He  had 
supposed  it  was  lost;  yet  here,  after  some 
years,  appeared  a  man  who  knew  of  it.  As 
Mr.  Barclay  had  been  reticent  about  his  busi- 
ness affairs,  he  had  never  told  his  wife  about 
having  deposited  this  sum  with  Squire  Daven- 


The    Store    Boy.  43 

port,  and  of  this  fact  the  squire  had  meanly 
taken  advantage. 

"What  proof  have  you  of  this  strange  and 
improbable  story?"  asked  the  squire,  after  a 
nervous  pause. 

"The  best  of  proof,"  answered  the  tramp, 
promptly.  "The  note  was  found,  and  is  now 
in  existence." 

"Who  holds  it — that  is,  admitting  for  a 
moment  the  truth  of  your  story?" 

"I  do ;  it  is  in  my  pocket  at  this  moment." 

At  this  moment  Tom  Davenport  opened  the 
door  of  the  apartment,  and  stared  in  open- 
eyed  amazement  at  his  father's  singular 
visitor. 

"Leave  the  room,  Tom,"  said  his  father, 
hastily.  "This  man  is  consulting  me  on  busi- 
ness." 

"Is  that  your  son,  squire?"  asked  the  tramp, 
with  a  familiar  nod.  "He's  quite  a  young 
swell." 

"What  business  can  my  father  have  with 
such  a  cad?"  thought  Tom,  disgusted. 

Tom  was  pleased,  nevertheless,  at  being 
taken  for  "a  young  swell." 


44  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTEE    VIII. 
SQUIRE  DAVENPORT'S  FINANCIAL  OPERATION. 

SQUIRE  DAVENPORT  was  a  thoroughly  re- 
spectable man  in  the  estimation  of  the  com- 
munity. That  such  a  man  was  capable  of  de- 
frauding a  poor  widow,  counting  on  her  ignor- 
ance, would  have  plunged  all  his  friends  and 
acquaintances  into  the  profoundest  amaze- 
ment. 

Yet  this  was  precisely  what  the  squire  had 
done. 

Mr.  Barclay,  who  had  prospered  beyond  his 
wife's  knowledge,  found  himself  seven  years 
before  in  possession  of  a  thousand  dollars  in 
hard  cash.  Knowing  that  the  squire  had  a 
better  knowledge  of  suitable  investments  than 
he,  he  went  to  him  one  day  and  asked  advice. 
Now,  the  squire  was  fond  of  money.  When 
he  saw  the  ample  roll  of  bank  notes  which  his 
neighbor  took  from  his  wallet,  he  felt  a  desire 
to  possess  them.  They  would  not  be  his,  to 
be  sure,  but  merely  to  have  them  under  his  con- 
trol seemed  pleasant.  So  he  said : 

"Friend  Barclay,  I  should  need  time  to  con- 


The    Store    Boy.  45 

sider  that  question.     Are  you  in  any  hurry?" 

"I  should  like  to  get  the  money  out  of  my 
possession.  I  might  lose  it  or  have  it  stolen. 
Besides,  I  don't  want  my  wife  to  discover  that 
I  have  it." 

"It  might  make  her  extravagant,  perhaps," 
suggested  the  squire. 

"No,  I  am  not  afraid  of  that;  but  I  want 
some  day  to  surprise  her  by  letting  her  see 
that  I  am  a  richer  man  than  she  thinks." 

"Very  judicious!  Then  no  one  knows  that 
you  have  the  money?" 

"No  one;  I  keep  my  business  to  myself." 

"You  are  a  wise  man.  I'll  tell  you  what  I 
will  do,  friend  Barclay.  While  I  am  not  pre- 
pared to  recommend  any  particular  invest- 
ment, I  will  take  the  money  and  give  you  my 
jiote  for  it,  agreeing  to  pay  six  per  cent,  inter- 
est. Of  course  I  shall  invest  it  in  some  wtiy, 
and  I  may  gain  or  I  may  lose,  but  even  if  I  do 
lose  you  will  be  safe,  for  you  will  have  my 
note,  and  will  receive  interest  semi-annually." 

The  proposal  struck  Mr.  Barclay  favorably. 

"I  suppose  I  can  have  the  money  wrhen  I 
want  it  again?"  he  inquired. 

"Oh,  certainly!  I  may  require  a  month's 
notice  to  realize  on  securities ;  but  if  I  have  the 
money  iri  Dank  I  won't  even  ask  that." 

"Then  take  the  money,  squire,  and  give  me 
the  note." 

So,  in  less  than  five  minutes,  the  money 
found  its  way  into  Squire  Davenport's  strong 


46  The    Store    Boy. 

box,  and  Mr.  Barclay  left  the  squire's  presence 
well  satisfied,  with  his  note  of  hand  in  place 
of  his  roll  of  greenbacks. 

Nearly  two  years  passed.  Interest  was 
paid  punctually  three  times,  and  another  pa}r- 
ment  was  all  but  due  when  the  unfortunate 
creditor  died  in  Chicago.  Then  it  was  that  a 
terrible  temptation  assailed  Squire  Davenport. 
No  one  knew  of  the  trust  his  neighbor  had  re- 
posed in  him — not  even  his  wife.  Of  course,  if 
the  note  was  found  in  his  pocket,  all  would  be 
known.  But  perhaps  it  would  not  be  known. 
In  that  case,  the  thousand  dollars  and  thirty 
dollars  interest  might  be  retained  without  any 
one  being  the  wiser.  It  is  only  fair  to  say 
that  Squire  Davenport's  face  flushed  with 
shame  as  the  unworthy  thought  came  to  him, 
but  still  he  did  not  banish  it.  He  thought  the 
matter  over,  and  the  more  he  thought  the  more 
unwilling  he  was  to  give  up  this,  sum,  which 
all  at  once  had  become  dearer  to  him  than  all 
the  rest  of  his  possessions. 

"I'll  wait  to  see  whether  the  note  is  found," 
he  said  to  himself.  "Of  course,  if  it  is,  I  will 

pay  it "  That  is,  he  would  pay  it  if  he 

were  obliged  to  do  it. 

Poor  Barclay  was  buried  in  Chicago — it 
would  have  been  too  expensive  to  bring  on  the 
body — and  pretty  soon  it  transpired  that  he 
had  left  no  property,  except  the  modest  cot- 
tage in  which  his  widow  and  son  continued  to 
live. 


The    Store    Boy.  47 

Poor  Mrs.  Barclay!  Everybody  pitied  her, 
and  lamented  her  straitened  circumstances. 
Squire  Davenport  kept  silence,  and  thought, 
with  guilty  joy,  "They  haven't  found  the  note; 
I  can  keep  the  money,  and  no  one  will  be  the 
wiser !" 

How  a  rich  man  could  have  been  guilty  of 
such  consummate  meanness  I  will  not  under- 
take to  explain,  but  "the  love  of  money  is  the 
root  of  evil,"  and  Squire  Davenport  had  love 
of  money  in  no  common  measure. 

Five  years  passed.  Mrs.  Barclay  wa,s  obliged 
to  mortgage  her  house  to  obtain  the  means  of 
living,  and  the  very  man  who  supplied  her  with 
the  money  Avas  the  very  man  whom  her  hus- 
band had  blindly  trusted.  She  little  dreamed 
that  it  was  her  own  money  he  was  doling  out 
to  her. 

In  fact,  Squire  Davenport  himself  had 
almost  forgotten  it.  He  had  come  to  consider 
the  thousand  dollars  and  interest  fully  and 
absolutely  his  own,  and  had  no  apprehension 
that  his  mean  fraud  would  ever  be  discovered. 
Like  a  thunderbolt,  then,  came  to  him  the  dec- 
laration of  his  unsavory  visitor  that  the  note 
was  in  existence,  and  was  in  the  hands  of  a 
man  who  meant  to  use  it.  Smitten  writh  sud- 
den panic,  he  stared  in  the  face  of  the  tramp. 
But  he  was  not  going  to  give  up  without  a 
struggle. 

"You  are  evidently  trying  to  impose  upon 


48  The    Store    Boy. 

me,"  he  said,  mentally  bracing  up.  "You  wish 
to  extort  money  from  me." 

"So  I  do,"  said  the  tramp,  quietly. 

"Ha!  you  admit  it?"  exclaimed  the  squire. 

"Certainly;  I  wouldn't  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  come  here  at  great  expense  and  in- 
convenience, if  I  hadn't  been  expecting  to  make 
some  money." 

"Then  you've  come  to  the  wrong  person;  I 
repeat  it,  you've  come  to  the  wrong  person!" 
said  the  squire,  straightening  his  back  and 
eying  his  companion  sternly. 

"I  begin  to  think  I  have,"  assented  the 
visitor. 

"Ha!  he  weakens!"  thought  Squire  Daven- 
port. "My  good  man,  I  recommend  you  to 
turn  over  a  new  leaf,  and  seek  to  earn  an 
honest  living,  instead  of  trying  to  levy  black- 
mail on  men  of  means." 

"An  honest  living!"  repeated  the  tramp, 
with  a  laugh.  "This  advice  comes  well  from 
you." 

Once  more  the  squire  felt  uncomfortable  and 
apprehensive. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  he  said,  irritably. 
"However,  as  you  yourself  admit,  you  have 
come  to  the  wrong  person." 

"Just  so,"  said  the  visitor,  arising.  "I  now 
go  to  the  right  person." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Squire  Daven- 
port, in  alarm. 


The    Store    Boy.  49 

"I  mean  that  I  ought  to  have  gone  to  Mrs. 
Barclay." 

"Sit  down,  sit  down !"  said  the  squire,  nerv- 
ously. "You  mustn't  do  that." 

"Why  not?"  demanded  the  tramp,  looking 
him  calmly  in  the  face. 

"Because  it  would  disturb  her  mind,  and  ex- 
cite erroneous  thoughts  and  expectations." 

"She  would  probably  be  willing  to  give  me  a 
good  sum  for  bringing  it  to  her,  say,  the  over- 
clue  interest.  That  alone,  in  five  years  and  a 
half,  would  amount  to  over  three  hundred  dol- 
lars, even  without  compounding." 

Squire  Davenport  groaned  in  spirit.  It  was 
indeed  true !  He  must  pay  away  over  thirteen 
hundred  dollars,  and  his  loss  in  reputation 
would  be  even  greater  than  his  loss  of  money. 

"Can't  we  compromise  this  thing?"  he  stam- 
mered. "I  don't  admit  the  genuineness  of  the 
note,  but  if  such  a  claim  were  made,  it  would 
seriously  annoy  me.  I  am  willing  to  give  you, 
say,  fifty  dollars,  if  you  will  deliver  up  the  pre- 
tended note." 

"It  won't  do,  squire.  Fifty  dollars  won't 
do !  I  won't  take  a  cent  less  than  two  hundred, 
and  that  is  only  about  half  the  interest  you 
would  have  to  pay." 

"You  speak  as  if  the  note  were  genuine," 
said  the  squire,  uncomfortably. 

"You  know  whether  it  is  or  not,"  said  the 
tramp,  significantly.  "At  any  rate,  we  won't 
talk  about  that.  You  know  my  terms." 


50  The    Store    Boy. 

In  the  end,  Squire  Davenport  paid  over  two 
hundred  dollars,  and  received  back  the  note, 
which,  after  a  hasty  examination,  he  threw  into 
the  fire. 

"Now,"  he  said,  roughly,  "get  out  of  my 
house,  you — forger." 

"Good-evening,  squire!"  said  the  tramp, 
laughing  and  nodding  to  the  discomfited 
squire.  "We  may  meet  again,  some  time." 

"If  you  come  here  again,  I  will  set  the  dog 
on  you." 

"So  much  the  worse  for  the  dog!  Well, 
good-night !  I  have  enjoyed  my  interview — 
hope  you  have." 

"Impudent  scoundrel!"  said  the  squire  to 
himself.  "I  hope  he  will  swing  some  day !" 

But,  as  he  thought  over  what  had  happened, 
he  found  comfort  in  the  thought  that  the  secret 
was  at  last  safe.  The  note  was  burned,  and 
could  never  reappear  in  judgment  against  him. 
Certainly,  he  got  off  cheap. 

"Well,"  thought  the  tramp,  as  he  strode 
away  from  the  squire's  mansion,  "this  has  been 
a  profitable  evening.  I  have  twro  hundred  dol- 
lars in  my  pocket,  and — I  still  have  a  hold  on 
the  rascal.  If  he  had  only  examined  the  note 
before  burning  it,  he  might  have  made  a  dis- 
covery !" 


The    Store    Boy.  51 


CHAPTEE    IX. 

A    PROSPECT    OF  TROUBLE. 

WHEN  Ben  returned  home  from  the  Town 
Hall  he  discovered,  at  the  first  glance,  that  his 
mother  was  in  trouble. 

"Are  you  disturbed  because  I  came  home  so 
late?"  asked  Ben.  "I  would  have  been  here 
sooner,  but  I  went  home  with  Rose  Gardiner. 
I  ought  to  have  remembered  that  you  might 
feel  lonely." 

Mrs.  Barclay  smiled  faintly. 

"I  had  no  occasion  to  feel  lonely,"  she  said. 
"I  had  three  callers.  The  last  did  not  go 
away  till  after  nine  o'clock." 

"I  am  glad  you  wrere  not  alone,  mother,"  said 
Ben,  thinking  some  of  his  mother's  neighbors 
might  have  called. 

"I  should  rather  have  been  alone,  Ben.  They 
brought  bad  news — that  is,  one  of  them  did." 

"Who  was  it,  mother?  Wlio  called  on 
you?" 

"The  first  one  was  the  same  man  who  took 
your  money  in  the  woods." 


52  The    Store    Boy. 

"What,  the  tramp !"  exclaimed  Ben,  hastily. 
"Did  he  frighten  you?" 

"A  little,  at  first3  but  he  did  me  no  harm. 
He  asked  for  some  supper,  and  I  gave  it  to 
him." 

"What  bad  news  did  he  bring?" 

"None.  It  was  not  he.  On  the  other  hand, 
what  he  hinted,  would  be  good  news,  if  it  were 
true.  He  said  that  your  father  left  property, 
and  that  he  was  the  only  man  who  possessed 
the  secret." 

"Do  you  think  this  can  be  so?"  said  Ben, 
looking  at  his  mother  in  surprise. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think.  He  said  he 
was  a  barkeeper  in  the  hotel  where  your  poor 
father  died,  and  was  about  to  say  more  when 
a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  he  hurried 
away,  as  if  in  fear  of  encountering  somebody." 

"And  he  did  not  come  back?" 

"No." 

"That  is  strange,"  said  Ben,  thoughtfully. 
"Do  you  know,  mother,  I  met  him  on  my  way 
home,  or  rather,  he  came  up  behind  me  and 
tapped  me  on  the  shoulder." 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  Mrs.  Barclay, 
eagerly. 

"He  gave  me  back  the  bogus  dollar  he  took 
from  me,  saying,  with  a  laugh,  that  it  would  be 
of  no  use  to  him.  Then  he  said  he  might  do 
me  a  service  some  time,  and  I  would  some  day 
hear  from  him." 

"Ben,   I   think  that   man   took  the  papers 


The    Store    Boy.  53 

from  the  pocket  of  your  dying  father,  and  has 
them  now  in  his  possession.  He  promised  to 
sell  me  a  secret  for  money,  but  I  told  him  I  had 
none  to  give." 

"I  wish  we  could  see  him  again,  but  he  said 
he  should  leave  town  to-night.  But,  mother, 
what  was  the  bad  news  you  spoke  of?" 

"Ben,  I  am  afraid  we  are  going  to  lose  our 
home,"  said  the  widow,  the  look  of  trouble  re- 
turning to  her  face. 

"What  do  you  mean,  mother?" 

"You  know  that  Squire  Davenport  has  a 
mortgage  on  the  place  for  seven  hundred  dol- 
lars; he  was  here  to-night  with  a  man  named 
Kirk,  some  connection  of  his  wife.  It  seems 
Kirk  is  coming  to  Pentonville  to  live,  and 
wants  this  house." 

"He  will  have  to  want  it,  mother,"  said  Ben, 
stoutly. 

"Not  if  the  squire  backs  him,  as  he  does;  he 
threatens  to  foreclose  the  mortgage  if  I  don't 
sell." 

Ben  comprehended  the  situation  now,  and 
appreciated  its  gravity. 

"What  does  he  offer,  mother?" 

"A  thousand  dollars  only — perhaps  a  little 
more." 

"Why,  that  would  be  downright  robbery." 

"Not  in  the  eye  of  the  law.  Ben,  we  are  in 
the  power  of  Squire  Davenport,  and  he  is  a 
hard  man." 

"I  would  like  to  give  him  a  piece  of  my 


54  The    Store    Boy. 

mind,  mother.  He  might  be  in  better  business 
than  robbing  you  of  your  house." 

"Do  nothing  hastily,  Ben.  There  is  only 
one  thing  that  we  can  do  to  save  the  house,  and 
that  is,  to  induce  some  one  to  advance  the 
money  necessary  to  take  up  the  mortgage." 

"Can  you  think  of  anybody  who  would  do 
it?" 

Mrs.  Barclay  shook  her  head. 

"There  is  no  one  in  Pentonville  who  would 
be  willing,  and  has  the  money,"  said  she.  "I 
have  a  rich  cousin  in  New  York,  but  I  have  not 
met  him  since  I  was  married;  he  thought  a 
great  deal  of  me  once,  but  I  suppose  he  scarcely 
remembers  me  now.  He  lived,  when  I  last 
heard  of  him,  on  Lexington  Avenue,  and  his 
name  is  Absalom  Peters." 

"And  he  is  rich?" 

"Yes,  very  rich,  I  believe." 

"I  have  a  great  mind  to  ask  for  a  day's  vaca- 
tion from  Mr.  Crawford,  and  go  to  New  York 
to  see  him." 

"I  am  afraid  it  would  be  no  good." 

"It  would  do  no  harm,  except  that  it  would 
cost  something  for  traveling  expenses.  But  I 
would  go  as  economically  as  possible.  Have 
I  your  permission,  mother?" 

"You  can  do  as  you  like,  Ben ;  I  won't  forbid 
you,  though  I  have  little  hope  of  its  doing  any 
good." 

"Then  I  will  try  and  get  away  Monday.  To- 
morrow is  Saturday,  and  I  can't  be  spared  at 


The    Store    Boy.  55 

the  store;  there  is  always  more  doing,  you 
know,  on  Saturday  than  any  other  day." 

"I  don't  feel  like  giving  any  advice,  Ben. 
Do  as  you  please." 

The  next  day,  on  his  way  home  to  dinner, 
Ben  met  his  young  rival  of  the  evening  pre- 
vious, Tom  Davenport. 

"How  are  you,  Tom?"  said  Ben,  nodding. 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you,  Ben  Barclay,"  said 
the  young  aristocrat,  pausing  in  his  walk. 

"Go  ahead!     I'm  listening,"  said  Ben. 

Tom  was  rather  annoyed  at  the  want  of  re- 
spect which,  in  his  opinion,  Ben  showed  him, 
but  hardly  knew  how  to  express  his  objections, 
so  he  came  at  once  to  the  business  in  hand. 

"You'd  better  not  hang  around  Rose  Gar- 
diner so  much,"  he  said,  superciliously. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  demanded 
Ben,  quickly. 

"You  forced  your  attentions  on  her  last 
evening  at  the  Town  Hall." 

"Who  told  you  so?" 

"I  saw  it  for  myself." 

"I  thought  Rose  didn't  tell  you  so." 

"It  must  be  disagreeable  to  her  family  to 
have  a  common  grocer's  boy  seen  with  her." 

"It  seems  to  me  you  take  a  great  deal  of  in- 
terest in  the  matter,  Tom  Davenport.  You 
talk  as  if  you  were  the  guardian  of  the  young 
lady.  I  believe  you  wanted  to  go  home  with 
her  yourself." 

"It  would  have  been  much  more  suitable, 


56  The    Store    Boy. 

but  you  had  made  her  promise  to  go  with  you/' 

"I  would  have  released  her  from  her  promise 
at  once,  if  she  had  expressed  a  wish  to  that 
effect.  Now,  Tom  Davenport,  I  want  to  give 
you  a  piece  of  advice." 

"I  don't  want  any  of  your  advice,"  said  Tom, 
loftily.  "I  don't  want  any  advice  from  a  store 
boy." 

"I'll  give  it  to  you  all  the  same.  You  can 
make  money  by  minding  your  own  business." 

"You  are  impudent!"  said  Tom,  flushing 
with  anger.  "I've  got  something  more  to  tell 
you.  You'll  be  out  on  the  sidewalk  before 
three  months  are  over.  Father  is  going  to 
foreclose  the  mortgage  on  your  house." 

"That  remains  to  be  seen!"  said  Ben,  but 
his  heart  sank  within  him  as  he  realized  that 
the  words  would  probably  prove  true. 


The    Store    Boy.  5? 


CHAPTER   X. 

BEN    GOES   TO    NEW    YORK. 

PENTONVILLE  was  thirty-five  miles  distant 
from  New  York,  and  the  fare  was  a  dollar,  but 
an  excursion  ticket,  carrying  a  passenger  both 
ways,  was  only  a  dollar  and  a  half.  Ben  cal- 
culated that  his  extra  expenses,  including  din- 
ner, might  amount  to  fifty  cents,  thus  making 
the  cost  of  the  trip  two  dollars.  This  sum, 
small  as  it  was,  appeared  large  both  to  Ben  and 
his  mother.  Some  doubts  about  the  expedi- 
ency of  the  journey  suggested  themselves  to 
Mrs.  Barclay. 

"Do  you  think  you  had  better  go,  Ben?"  she 
said,  doubtfully.  "Two  dollars  would  buy  you 
some  new  stockings  and  handkerchiefs." 

"I  will  do  without  them,  mother.  Some- 
thing has  got  to  be  done,  or  we  shall  be  turned 
into  the  street  when  three  months  are  up. 
Squire  Davenport  is  a  very  selfish  man,  and  he 
will  care  nothing  for  our  comfort  or  conven- 
ience." 

"That  is  true,"  said  the  widow,  with  a  sigh. 
"If  I  thought  your  going  to  New  York  would 


The    Store    Boy. 

do  any  good,  I  would  not  grudge  you  the 
money " 

"Something  will  turn  up,  or  I  will  turn  up 
something,"  said  Ben,  confidently. 

When  he  asked  Mr.  Crawford  for  a  clay  off, 
the  latter  responded :  "Yes,  Ben,  I  think  I 
can  spare  you,  as  Monday  is  not  a  very  busy 
day.  Would  you  be  willing  to  do  an  errand 
for  me?" 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Crawford,  with  pleasure." 

"I  need  a  new  supply  of  prints.  Go  to 
Stackpole  &  Rogers,  No.  —  White  Street,  and 
select  me  some  attractive  patterns.  I  shall 
rely  upon  your  taste." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Ben,  gratified  by  the 
compliment. 

He  received  instructions  as  to  price  and 
quantity,  which  he  carefully  noted  down. 

"As  it  will  save  me  a  journey,  not  to  speak 
of  my  time,  I  am  willing  to  pay  your  fare  one 
way." 

"Thank  you,  sir ;  you  are  very  kind." 

Mr.  Crawford  took  from  the  money  drawer  a 
dollar,  and  handed  it  to  Ben. 

"But  I  buy  an  excursion  ticket,  so  that  my 
fare  each  way  will  be  but  seventy-five  cents." 

"Never  mind,  the  balance  will  go  toward 
your  dinner." 

"There,  mother,  what  do  you  say  now?"  said 
Ben,  on  Saturday  night.  "Mr.  Crawford  is 
going  to  pay  half  my  expenses,  and  I  am  going 
to  buy  some  goods  for  him." 


The    Store    Boy.  59 

"I  am  glad  he  reposes  so  much  confidence  in 
you,  Ben.  I  hope  you  won't  lose  his  money." 

"Oh,  I  don't  carry  any.  He  buys  on  thirty 
days.  All  I  have  to  do  is  to  select  the  goods." 

"Perhaps  it  is  for  the  best  that  you  go,  after 
all,"  said  Mrs.  Barclay.  "At  any  rate,  I  hope 
so." 

At  half -past  seven  o'clock  on  Monday  mor- 
ning Ben  stood  on  the  platform  of  the  Penton- 
ville  station,  awaiting  the .  arrival  of  the 
train. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  said  a  voice. 

Ben,  turning,  saw  that  it  was  Tom  Daven- 
port who  had  spoken. 

"I  am  going  to  New  York,"  he  answered, 
briefly. 

"Has  Crawford   discharged. you?" 

"Why  do  you  ask?  Would  you  like  to  ap- 
ply for  the  position?"  asked  Ben,  coolly. 

"Do  you  think  I  would  condescend  to  be  a 
grocer's  boy?"  returned  Tom,  disdainfully. 

"I  don't  know." 

"If  I  go  into  business  it  will  be  as  a  mer- 
chant." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it." 

"You  didn't  say  what  you  were  going  to 
New  York  for?" 

"I  have  no  objection  to  tell  you,  as  you  are 
anxious  to  know ;  I  am  going  to  the  city  to  buy 
goods." 

Tom  looked  not  only  amazed  but  incredu- 
lous. 


60  The    Store    Boy. 

"That's  a  likely  story,"  said  he,  after  a 
pause. 

"It  is  a  true  story." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  Crawford  trusts  you  to 
buy  goods  for  him?" 

"So  it  seems." 

"He  must  be  getting  weak-headed." 

"Suppose  you  call  and  give  him  that  gratify- 
ing piece  of  information." 

Just  then  the  train  came  thundering  up,  and 
Ben  jumped  aboard.  Tom  Davenport  looked 
after  him  with  a  puzzled  glance. 

"I  wonder  whether  that  boy  tells  the  truth," 
he  said  to  himself.  "He  thinks  too  much  of 
himself,  considering  what  he  is." 

It  never  occurred  to  Tom  that  the  remark 
would  apply  even  better  to  him  than  the  boy 
he  was  criticising.  As  a  rule,  we  are  the  last 
to  recognize  our  own  faults,  however  quick  we 
may  be  to  see  the  faults  of  others. 

Two  hours  later  Ben  stood  in  front  of  the 
large  dry-goods  jobbing  house  of  Stackpole  & 
Rogers,  in  White  Street. 

He  ascended  a  staircase  to  the  second  floor, 
which  was  very  spacious  and  filled  with  goods 
in  great  variety. 

"Where  is  the  department  of  prints?"  he  in- 
quired of  a  young  man  near  the  door. 

He  was  speedily  directed  and  went  over  at 
once.  He  showed  the  salesman  in  charge  a 
letter  from  Mr.  Crawford,  authorizing  him  to 
select  a  certain  amount  of  goods. 


The    Store    Boy.  61 

"You  are  rather  a  young  buyer,"  said  the 
salesman,  smiling. 

"It  is  the  first  time  I  have  served  in  that 
way,"  said  Ben,  modestly;  "but  I  know  pretty 
well  what  Mr.  Crawford  wants." 

Half  an  hour  was  consumed  in  making  his 
selections. 

"You  have  good  taste,"  said  the  salesman, 
"judging  from  your  selections." 

"Thank  you." 

"If  you  ever  come  to  the  city  to  look  for 
work,  come  here,  and  I  will  introduce  you  to 
the  firm." 

"Thank -you.  How  soon  can  you  ship  the 
goods?" 

"I  am  afraid  not  to-day,  as  we  are  very 
busy.  Early  next  week  we  will  send  them." 

His  business  concluded,  Ben  left  the  store 
and  walked  up  to  Broadway.  The  crowded 
thoroughfare  had  much  to  interest  him.  He 
was  looking  in  at  a  window  when  some  one 
tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

It  was  a  young  man  foppishly  attired,  who 
was  smiling  graciously  upon  him. 

"Why,  Gus  Andre,"  he  said,  "when  did  you 
come  to  town,  and  how  did  you  leave  all  the 
folks  in  Bridgeport?" 

"You  have  made  a  mistake,"  said  Ben. 

"Isn't  your  name  Gus  Andre?" 

"No,  it  is  Ben  Barclay,  from  Pentonville." 

"I  really  beg  your  pardon.  You  look  sur- 
prisingly like  my  friend  Gussie." 


62  The    Store    Boy. 

Five  minutes  later  there  was  another  tap  on 
our  hero's  shoulder,  as  he  was  looking  into 
another  window,  and  another  nicely  dressed 
young  man  said,  heartily:  "Why,  Ben,  my 
boy,  when  did  you  come  to  town?" 

"This  morning,"  answered  Ben.  "You  seem 
to  know  me,  but  I  can't  remember  you." 

"Are  you  not  Ben  Barclay,  of  Pentonville?" 

"Yes,  but " 

"Don't  you  remember  Jim  Fisher,  who 
passed  part  of  the  summer,  two  years  since,  in 
your  village?" 

"Where  were  you  staying?"  asked  Ben. 

It  was  the  other's  turn  to  look  confused. 

"At — the  Smith's,"  he  answered,  at  random. 

"At  Mrs.  Roxana  Smith's?"  suggested  Ben. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  other,  eagerly,  "she  is 
my  aunt." 

"Is  she?"  asked  Ben,  with  a  smile  of  amuse- 
ment, for  he  had  by  this  time  made  up  his 
mind  as  to  the  character  of  his  new  friend. 
"She  must  be  proud  of  her  stylish  nephew. 
Mrs.  Smith  is  a  poor  widow,  and  takes  in  wash- 
ing." 

"It's  some  other  Smith,"  said  the  young 
man,  discomfited. 

"She  is  the  only  one  by  that  name  in  Penton- 
ville." 

Jim  Fisher,  as  he  called  himself,  turned 
upon  his  heel  and  left  Ben  without  a  word.  It 
was  clear  that  nothing  could  be  made  out  of 
him. 


The    Store    Boy.  63 

Ben  walked  all  the  way  up  Broadway,  as 
far  as  Twenty-first  street,  into  which  he 
turned,  and  walked  eastward  until  he  reached 
Gramerey  Park,  opposite  which  Lexington 
Avenue  starts.  In  due  time  he  reached  the 
house  of  Mr.  Absalom  Peters,  and  ascending 
the  steps,  he  rang  the  bell. 

"Is  Mr.  Peters  in?"  he  asked  of  the  servant 
who  answered  the  bell. 

"No." 

"Will  he  be  in  soon?" 

"I  guess  not.  He  sailed  for  Europe  last 
week." 

Ben's  heart  sank  within  him.  He  had  hoped 
much  from  Mr.  Peters,  before  whom  he  meant 
to  lay  all  the  facts  of  his  mother's  situation. 
Now  that  hope  was  crushed. 

He  turned,  and  slowly  descended  the  steps. 

"There  goes  our  last  chance  of  saving  the 
house,"  he  said  to  himself,  sadly. 


64  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE  MADISON  AVENUE  STAGE. 

BEN  was  naturally  hopeful,  but  he  had 
counted  more  than  he  was  aware  on  the  chance 
of  obtaining  assistance  from  Absalom  Peters 
toward  paying  off  his  mother's  mortgage.  As 
Mr.  Peters  was  in  Europe  nothing  could  be 
done,  and  there  seemed  absolutely  no  one  else 
to  apply  to.  They  had  friends,  of  course,  and 
warm  ones,  in  Pentonville,  but  none  that  were 
able  to  help  them. 

"I  suppose  we  must  make  up  oar  minds  to 
Jose  the  house,"  thought  Ben.  "Squire  Daven- 
port is  selfish  and  grasping,  and  there  is  little 
chance  of  turning  him." 

He  walked  westward  till  he  reached  Madison 
Avenue.  A  stage  approached,  being  bound 
downtown,  and,  feeling  tired,  he  got  in.  The 
fare  was  but  five  cents,  and  he  was  willing  to 
pay  it. 

Some  Half  dozen  other  passengers  beside 
himself  were  in  the  stage.  Opposite  Ben  sat  a 
handsomely  dressed,  somewhat  portly  lady,  of 
middle  age,  with  a  kindly  expression.  Next 


The    Store    Boy.  65 

her  sat  a  young  man,  attired  fashionably,  who 
had  the  appearance  of  belonging  to  a  family  of 
position.  There  were,  besides,  an  elderly  man, 
of  clerical  appearance;  a  nurse  with  a  small 
child,  a  business  man,  intent  upon  the  financial 
column  of  a  leading  paper,  and  a  schoolboy. 

Ben  regarded  his  fellow-passengers  with  in- 
terest. In  PenfonviUe  he  seldom  saw  a  new 
face.  Here  all  were  new.  Our  young  hero 
was,  though  he  did  not  know  it,  an  embryo 
student  of  human  nature.  He  liked  to  observe 
men  and  women  of  different  classes  and  specu- 
late upon  their  probable  position  and  traits. 
It  so  happened  that  his  special  attention  was 
attracted  to  the  fashionably-attired  young 
man. 

"I  suppose  he  belongs  to  a  rich  family,  and 
has  plenty  of  money,"  thought  Ben.  "It  must 
be  pleasant  to  be  born  with  a  gold  spoon  in 
your  mouth,  and  know  that  you  are  provided 
for  life." 

If  Ben  had  been  wiser  he  would  have  judged 
differently.  To  be  born  to  wealth  removes  all 
the  incentives  to  action,  and  checks  the  spirit 
of  enterprise.  A  boy  or  man  who  finds  him- 
self gradually  rising  in  the  world,  through  his 
own  exertions,  experiences  a  satisfaction  un- 
known to  one  whose  fortune  is  ready  made. 
However,  in  Ben's  present  strait  it  is  no  won- 
der he  regarded  with  envy  the  supposed  young 
man  of  fortune. 

Our  hero  was  destined  to  be  strangely  sur- 


66  The    Store    Boy. 

prised.  His  eyes  were  unusually  keen,  and  en- 
abled him  after  a  while  to  observe  some  rather 
remarkable  movements  on  the  part  of  the 
young  man.  Though  his  eyes  were  looking 
elsewhere,  Ben  could  see  that  his  right  hand 
wa^  stealthily  insinuating  itself  into  the  pocket 
of  the  richly-dressed  lady  at  his  side. 

"Is  it  possible  that  he  is  a  pickpocket?" 
thought  Ben,  in  amazement.  "So  nicely 
dressed  as  he  is,  too !" 

It  did  not  occur  to  Ben  that  he  dressed  well 
the  better  to  avert  suspicion  from  his  real  char- 
acter. Besides,  a  man  who  lives  at  other 
people's  expense  can  afford  to  dress  well. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  thought  Ben,  disturbed 
in  mind.  "Ought  I  not  to  warn  the  lady  that 
she  is  in  danger  of  losing  her  money?" 

While  he  was  hesitating  the  deed  was  accom- 
plished. A  pearl  portemonnaie  was  adroitly 
drawn  from  the  lady's  pocket  and  transferred 
to  that  of  the  young  man.  It  was  done  with 
incredible  swiftness,  but  Ben's  sharp  eyes  saw 
it. 

The  young  man  yawned,  and,  turning  away 
from  the  lady  appeared  to  be  looking  out  of  a 
window  at  the  head  of  the  coach. 

"Why,  there  is  Jack  Osborne,"  he  said,  half 
audibly,  and,  rising,  pulled  the  strap  for  the 
driver  to  stop  the  stage. 

Then  was  the  critical  moment  for  Ben.  Was 
he  to  allow  the  thief  to  escape  with  the  money? 
Ben  hated  to  get  into  a  disturbance,  but  he 


The    Store    Boy.  67 

felt  that  it  would  be  wrong  and  cowardly  to 
be  silent, 

"Before  you  get  out,"  he  said,  "hand  that 
lady  her  pocketbook." 

The  face  of  the  pickpocket  changed  and  he 
darted  a  malignant  glance  at  Ben. 

"What  do  you  mean,  you  young  scoundrel?" 
he  said. 

"You  have  taken  that  lady's  pocketbook," 
persisted  Ben. 

"Do  you  mean  to  insult  me?" 

"I  saw  you  do  it." 

With  a  half  exclamation  of  anger,  the  young 
man  darted  to  the  door.  But  he  was  brought 
to  a  standstill  by  the  business  man,  who  placed 
himself  in  his  way. 

"Not  so  fast,  young  man,"  he  said,  reso- 
lutely. 

"Out  of  the  way!"  exclaimed  the  thief,  in  a 
rage.  "It's  all  a  base  lie,  I  never  was  so  in- 
sulted in  my  life." 

"Do  you  miss  your  pocketbook,  madam?" 
asked  the  gentleman,  turning  to  the  lady  who 
had  been  robbed. 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "It  was  in  the  pocket 
next  to  this  man." 

The  thief  seeing  there  was  no  hope  of  retain- 
ing his  booty,  drew  it  from  his  pocket  and  flung 
it  into  the  lady's  lap. 

"Now,  may  I  go?"  he  said. 

There  was  no  policeman  in  sight,  and  at  a 


68  The    Store    Boy. 

nod  from  the  lady,  the  pickpocket  was  allowed 
to  leave  the  stage. 

"You  ought  to  have  had  him  arrested.  He  is 
a  dangerous  character,"  said  the  gentleman 
who  had  barred  his  progress. 

"It  would  have  been  inconvenient  for  me  to 
appear  against  him,"  said  the  lady.  "I  am 
willing  to  let  him  go." 

"Well,  there  is  one  comfort — if  he  keeps  on 
he  will  be  hauled  up  sooner  or  later,"  remarked 
the  gentleman.  "Would  your  loss  have  been 
a  heavy  one?"  he  inquired. 

"I  had  quite  a  large  sum  in  my  pocketbook, 
over  two  hundred  dollars.  But  for  my  young 
friend  opposite,"  she  said,  nodding  kindly  at 
Ben,  "I  should  have  lost  it  with  very  small 
chance  of  recovery." 

"I  am  glad  to  have  done  you  a  service, 
madam,"  said  Ben,  politely. 

"I  know  it  is  rather  imprudent  to  carry  so 
large  a  sum  about  with  me,"  continued  the 
lady,  "but  I  have  a  payment  to  make  to  a  car- 
penter who  has  done  work  in  my  house,  and  I 
thought  he  might  not  find  it  convenient  to  use 
a  check." 

"A  lady  is  in  more  danger  than  a  gentle- 
man," observed  the  business  man,  "as  she  can 
not  well  hide  away  her  pocketbook.  You  will 
need  to  be  careful  as  you  walk  along  the 
street." 

"I  think  it  will  be  best  to  have  a  neighbor 
whom  I  can  trust,"  said  the  lady.  "Would 


The    Store    Boy.  69 

you  mind  taking  this  seat  at  my  side?"  she 
continued,  addressing  Ben. 

"I  will  change  with  pleasure,"  said  our  hero, 
taking  the  seat  recently  vacated  by  the  pick- 
pocket. 

"You  have  sharp  eyes,  my  young  friend," 
said  his  new  acquaintance. 

"My  eyes  are  pretty  good,"  said  Ben,  with 
a  smile. 

"They  have  done  me  good  service  to-day. 
May  I  know  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  such 
timely  help?" 

"My  name  is  Benjamin  Barclay." 

"Do  you  live  in  the  city?" 

"No,  madam.  I  live  in  Pentonville,  about 
thirty  miles  from  New  York." 

"I  have  heard  of  the  place.  Are  you  pro- 
posing to  live  here?" 

"No,  madam.  I  came  in  to-day  on  a  little 
business  of  my  own,  and  also  to  select  some 
goods  for  a  country  store  in  which  I  am  em- 
ployed." 

"You  are  rather  young  for  such  a  commis- 
sion." 

"I  know  the  sort  of  goods  Mr.  Crawford 
sells,  so  it  was  not  very  difficult  to  make  the 
selection." 

"At  what  time  do  you  go  back?" 

"By  the  four  o'clock  train." 

"Have  you  anything  to  do  meanwhile?" 

"No,  madam,"  answered  Ben,  a  little  sur- 
prised. 


70  The    Store    Boy. 

"Then  I  should  like  to  have  you  accompany 
me  to  the  place  where  I  am  to  settle  my  bill.  I 
feel  rather  timid  after  my  adventure  with  our 
late  fellow-passenger." 

"I  shall  be  very  happy  to  oblige  you,  mad- 
am," said  Ben,  politely. 

He  had  just  heard  a  public  clock  strike  one 
and  he  knew,  therefore,  that  he  would  have 
plenty  of  time. 


The    Store    Boy.  71 


CHAPTER  XII. 

BEN'S  LUCK. 

"WE  will  get  out  here,"  said  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton. 

They  had  reached  the  corner  of  Fourth 
Street  and  Broadway. 

Ben  pulled  the  strap,  and  with  his  new 
friend  left  the  stage.  He  offered  his  hand  po- 
litely to  assist  the  lady  in  descending. 

"He  is  a  little  gentleman,"  thought  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  who  was  much  pleased  with  our 
hero. 

They  turned  from  Broadway  eastward,  and 
presently  crossed  the  Bowery  also.  Not  far 
to  the  east  of  the  last  avenue  they  came  to 
a  carpenter's  shop. 

Mr.  Plank,  a  middle-aged,  honest-looking 
mechanic,  looked  up  in  surprise  when  Mrs. 
Hamilton  entered  the  shop. 

"You  didn't  expect  a  call  from  me?"  said 
the  lady,  pleasantly. 

"No,  ma'am.  Fashionable  ladies  don't  often 
find  their  way  over  here," 


72  The    Store    Boy. 

"Then  don't  look  upon  me  as  a  fashionable 
lady.  I  like  to  attend  to  my  business  myself, 
and  have  brought  you  the  money  for  your  bill." 

"Thank  you,  ma'am.  You  never  made  me 
wait.  But  I  am  sorry  you  had  the  trouble  to 
come  to  my  shop.  I  would  have  called  at  your 
house  if  you  had  sent  me  a  postal." 

"My  time  is  not  so  valuable  as  yours,  Mr. 
Plank.  I  must  tell  you,  however,  that  you 
came  near  not  getting  your  money  this  morn- 
ing. Another  person  undertook  to  collect  your 
bill." 

"Who  was  it?"  demanded  the  carpenter,  in- 
dignantly. "If  there's  anybody  playing  such 
tricks  on  me  I'll  have  him  up  before  the 
courts." 

"It  was  no  acquaintance  of  yours.  The  per- 
son in  question  had  no  spite  against  you  and 
you  would  only  have  suffered  a  little  delay." 

Then  Mrs.  Hamilton  explained  how  a  pick- 
pocket had  undertaken  to  relieve  her  of  her 
wallet,  and  would  have  succeeded  but  for  her 
young  companion. 

"Oh,  they're  mighty  sharp,  ma'am,  I  can  tell 
you,"  said  the  carpenter.  "I  never  lost  any- 
thing, because  I  don't  look  as  if  I  had  any- 
thing worth  stealing;  but  if  one  of  those  ras- 
cals made  up  his  mind  to  rob  me,  ten  to  one 
he'd  do  it." 

Mr.  Plank  receipted  his  bill  and  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton paid  him  a  hundred  and  eighty-seven  dol- 
lars and  fifty  cents,  Ben  could  not  help  en- 


The    Store    Boy.  73 

vying  him,  as  he  saw  the  roll  of  bills  trans- 
ferred to  him. 

"I  hope  the  work  was  done  satisfactory," 
said  Mr.  Plank.  (Perfect  grammar  could  not 
be  expected  of  a  man  who,  from  the  age  of 
twelve,  had  been  forced  to  earn  his  own  liv- 
ing.) 

"Quite  so,  Mr.  Plank,"  said  the  lady,  gra- 
ciously. "I  shall  send  for  you  when  I  have 
any  more  work  to  be  done." 

There  was  no  more  business  to  attend  to, 
and  Mrs.  Hamilton  led  the  way  out,  accom- 
panied by  Ben. 

"I  will  trouble  you  to  see  me  as  far  as  Broad- 
way," said  the  lady.  "I  am  not  used  to  this 
neighborhood  and  prefer  to  have  an  escort." 

"I  didn't  think  this  morning,"  said  Ben  to 
himself,  "that  a  rich  lady  would  select  me  as 
her  escort." 

On  the  whole,  he  liked  it.  It  gave  him  a 
feeling  of  importance,  and  a  sense  of  respon- 
sibility which  a  manly  boy  always  likes. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  stay  with  you  as  long  as 
you  like,"  said  Ben. 

"Thank  you,  Benjamin,  or,  shall  I  say  Ben?" 

"I  wish  you  would. .  I  hardly  know  myself 
when  I  am  called  Benjamin." 

"As  we  are  walking  along,  suppose  you  tell 
me  something  of  yourself.  I  only  know  your 
name,  and  that  you  live  in  Pentonville.  What 
relations  have  you?" 

"A  mother  only — my  father  is  dead." 


74  The    Store    Boy. 

"And  you  help  take  care  of  your  mother,  I 
suppose?" 

"Yes;  father  left  us  nothing  except  the  house 
we  live  in,  or,  at  least,  we  could  get  track  of 
no  other  property.  He  died  in  Chicago  sud- 
denly." 

"I  hope  you  are  getting  along  comfortably 
—you  and  your  mother,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
kindly. 

"We  have  our  troubles,"  answered  Ben. 
"We  are  in  danger  of  having  our  house  taken 
from  us." 

"How  is  that?" 

"A  rich  man  in  our  village,  Squire  Daven- 
port, has  a  mortgage  of  seven  hundred  dol- 
lars upon  it.  He  Avants  the  house  for  a  rel- 
ative of  his  wife,  and  threatens  to  foreclose 
at  the  end  of  three  months." 

"The  house  must  be  worth  a  good  deal  more 
than  the  mortgage." 

"It  is  worth  twice  as  much ;  but  if  it  is  put 
up  at  auction  I  doubt  if  it  will  fetch  over  a 
thousand  dollars." 

"This  would  leave  your  mother  but  three 
hundred?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Ben,  despondingly. 

"Have  you  thought  of  any  way  of  raising 
the  money?" 

"Yes;  I  came  up  to  the  city  to-day  to  see 
a  cousin  of  mother's,  a  Mr.  Absalom  Peters, 
who  lives  on  Lexington  Avenue,  and  I  had 


The    Store    Boy.  75 

just  come  from  there  when  I  got  into  the 
stage  with  you." 

"Won't  he  help  you?" 

"Perhaps  he  might  if  he  was  in  the  city; 
though  mother  has  seen  nothing  of  him  for 
twenty  years;  but,  unfortunately,  he  just 
sailed  for  Europe." 

"That  is  indeed  a  pity.  I  suppose  you  have 
not  much  hope  now?" 

"Unless  Mr.  Peters  comes  back.  He  is  the 
only  one  we  can  think  of  to  call  upon." 

"What  sort  of  a  man  is  this  Squire  Daven- 
port?" 

"He  is  a  very  selfish  man,  who  thinks  only 
of  his  own  interest.  We  felt  safe,  because  we 
did  not  suppose  he  would  have  any  use  for 
a  small  house  like  ours;  but  night  before  last 
he  called  on  mother  with  the  man  he  wants 
it  for." 

"He  cannot  foreclose  just  yet,  can  he?"  asked 
Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"No;  we  have  three  months  to  look  around." 

"Three  months  is  a  long  time,"  said  the  lady, 
cheerfully.  "A  good  deal  can  happen  in  three 
months.  Do  the  best  you  can,  and  keep  up 
hope." 

"I  shall  try  to  do  so." 

"You  have  reason  to  do  so.  You  may  not 
save  your  house,  but  you  have,  probably,  a 
good  many  years  before  you,  and  plenty  of 
good  fortune  may  be  in  store  for  you." 

The  cheerful  tone  in  which  the  lady  spoke 


76  The    Store    Boy. 

somehow  made  Ben  hopeful  and  sanguine,  at 
any  rate,  for  the  time  being. 

"In  this  country,  the  fact  that  you  are  a 
poor  boy  will  not  stand  in  the  way  of  your 
success.  The  most  eminent  men  of  the  day, 
in  all  branches  of  business,  and  in  all  profes- 
sions, were  once  poor  boys.  I  dare  say,  look- 
ing at  me,  you  don't  suppose  I  ever  knew  any- 
thing of  poverty." 

"No,"  said  Ben. 

"Yet  I  was  the  daughter  of  a  bankrupt 
farmer  and  my  husband  was  clerk  in  a  coun- 
try store.  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  how 
he  came  to  the  city  and  prospered,  leaving 
me,  at  his  death,  rich  beyond  my  needs.  Yet 
that  is  his  history  and  mine.  Does  it  encour- 
age you?" 

"Yes,  it  does,"  answered  Ben,  earnestly. 

"It  is  for  that  reason,  perhaps,  that  I  take 
an  interest  in  country  boys  who  are  placed 
as  my  husband  once  was,"  continued  Mrs. 
Hamilton.  "But  here  we  are  at  Broadway. 
It  only  remains  to  express  my  acknowledg- 
ment of  your  timely  assistance." 

"You  are  quite  welcome,"  said  Ben. 

"I  am  sure  of  that,  but  I  am  none  the  less 
indebted.  Do  me  the  favor  to  accept  this." 

She  opened  her  portemonnaie,  and  taking 
from  it  a  bank  note,  handed  it  to  Ben. 

In  surprise  he  looked  at  it,  and  saw  it  was 
a  twenty-dollar  bill. 


The    Store    Boy.  77 

"Did  you  know  this  was  a  twenty-dollar 
bill?"  he  asked,  in  amazement. 

"Certainly,"  answered  the  lady,  with  a 
smile.  "It  is  less  than  ten  per  cent,  on  the 
amount  I  would  have  lost  but  for  you.  I  hope 
it  will  be  of  service  to  you." 

"I  feel  rich  with  it,"  answered  Ben.  "How 
can  I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Hamilton?" 

"Call  on  me  at  No.  —  Madison  Avenue,  and 
do  it  in  person,  when  you  next  come  to  the 
city,"  said  the  lady,  smiling.  "Now,  if  you 
will  kindly  call  that  stage,  I  will  bid  you  good- 
by — for  the  present." 

Ben  complied  with  her  request,  and  joyfully 
resumed  his  walk  down  Broadway. 


78  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A     STARTLING     EVENT. 

THOUGH  Ben  had  failed  in  the  main  ob- 
ject of  his  expedition,  he  returned  to  Penton- 
ville  in  excellent  spirits.  He  felt  that  he  had 
been  a  favorite  of  fortune,  and  with  good 
reason.  In  one  day  he  had  acquired  a  sum 
equal  to  five  weeks'  wages.  Added  to  the  dol- 
lar Mr.  Crawford  had  contributed  toward  his 
expenses,  he  had  been  paid  twentj^-one  dol- 
lars, while  he  had  spent  a  little  less  than  two. 
It  is  not  every  country  boy  who  goes  up  to 
the  great  city  who  returns  with  an  equal  har- 
vest. If  Squire  Davenport  had  not  threat- 
ened to  foreclose  the  mortgage,  he  would  have 
felt  justified  in  buying  a  present  for  his 
mother.  As  it  was,  he  feared  they  would  have 
need  of  all  the  money  that  came  in  to  meet 
contingencies. 

The  train  reached  Pentonville  at  five  o'clock, 
and  about  the  usual  time  Ben  opened  the  gate 
and  walked  up  to  the  front  door  of  his  modest 
home.  He  looked  so  bright  and  cheerful  when 
he  entered  her  presence  fhat  Mrs.  Barclay 


The    Store    Boy.  79 

thought  he  must  have  found  and  been  kindly 
received  by  the  cousin  whom  he  had  gone  up 
to  seek. 

"Did  you  see  Mr.  Peters?"  she  asked,  anx- 
iously. 

"No,  mother;  he  is  in  Europe." 

A  shadow  came  over  the  mother's  face.  It 
was  like  taking  from  her  her  last  hope. 

"I  made  a  pretty  good  day's  work  of  it, 
nevertheless,  mother.  What  do  you  say  to 
this?"  and  he  opened  his  wallet  and  showed 
her  a  roll  of  bills. 

"Is  that  Mr.  Crawford's  money?"  she  asked. 

"No,  mother,  it  is  mine,  or  rather  it  is  yours, 
for  I  give  it  to  you." 

"Did  you  find  a  pocketbook,  Ben?  If  so, 
the  owner  may  turn  up." 

"Mother,  the  money  is  mine,  fairly  mine, 
for  it  was  given  me  in  return  for  a  service 
I  rendered  a  lady  in  New  York." 

"What  service  could  you  have  possibly  ren- 
dered, Ben,  that  merited  such  liberal  pay- 
ment?" asked  his  mother,  in  surprise. 

Upon  this  Ben  explained,  and  Mrs.  Bar- 
clay listened  to  his  story  with  wonder. 

"So  you  see,  mother,  I  did  well  to  go  to 
the  city,"  said  Ben,  in  conclusion. 

"It  has  turned  out  so,  and  I  am  thankful 
for  your  good  fortune.  But  I  should  have 
been  better  pleased  if  you  had  seen  Mr.  Peters 
and  found  him  willing  to  help  us  about  the 
mortgage." 


8o  The    Store    Boy. 

"So  would  I,  mother,  but  this  money  is 
worth  having.  When  supper  is  over  I  will 
go  to  the  store  to  help  out  Mr.  Crawford  and 
report  my  purchase  of  goods.  You  know  the 
most  of  our  trade  is  in  the  evening." 

After  Ben  had  gone  Mrs.  Barclay  felt  her 
spirits  return  as  she  thought  of  the  large  ad- 
dition to  their  little  stock  of  money. 

"One  piece  of  good  fortune  may  be  followed 
by  another,"  she  thought.  "Mr.  Peters  may 
return  from  Europe  in  time  to  help  us.  At 
any  rate,  we  have  nearly  three  months  to  look 
about  us,  and  God  may  send  us  help." 

When  the  tea  dishes  were  washed  and  put 
away  Mrs.  Barclay  sat  down  to  mend  a  pair 
of  Ben's  socks,  for  in  that  household  it  was 
necessary  to  make  clothing  last  as  long  as  pos- 
sible, when  she  was  aroused  from  her  work  by 
a  ringing  at  the  bell. 

She  opened  the  door  to  admit  Squire  Daven- 
port. 

"Good-evening,"  she  said,  rather  coldly,  for 
she  could  not  feel  friendly  to  a  man  who  was 
conspiring  to  deprive  her  of  her  modest  home 
and  turn  her  out  upon  the  sidewalk. 

"Good-evening,  widow,"  said  the  squire. 

"Will  you  walk  in?"  asked  Mrs.  Barclay, 
not  over  cordially. 

"Thank  you,  I  will  step  in  for  five  minutes. 
I  called  to  see  if  you  had  thought  better  of 
my  proposal  the  other  evening." 

"Your  proposal  was  to  take  my  house  from 


The    Store    Boy.  81 

me,"  said  Mrs.  Barclay.  "How  can  you  sup- 
pose I  would  think  better  of  that?" 

"You  forget  that  the  house  is  more  mine 
than  yours,  Mrs.  Barclay.  The  sum  I  have  ad- 
vanced on  mortgage  is  two-thirds  of,  the  value 
of  the  property." 

"I  dispute  that,  sir." 

"Let  it  pass,"  said  the  squire,  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand.  "Call  it  three-fifths,  if  you  will. 
Even  then  the  property  is  more  mine  than 
yours.  Women  don't  understand  business,  or 
you  would  see  matters  in  a  different  light." 

"I  am  a  woman,  it  is  true,  but  I  understand 
very  well  that  you  wish  to  take  advantage 
of  me,"  said  the  widow,  not  without  excusable 
bitterness  of  tone. 

"My  good  lady,  you  forget  that  I  am  ready 
to  cancel  the  mortgage  and  pay  you  three 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for  the  house.  Now, 
three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  is  a  handsome 
sum — a  very  handsome  sum.  You  could  put 
it  in  the  savings  bank  and  it  would  yield  you 
quite  a  comfortable  income." 

"Twenty  dollars,  more  or  less,"  said  Mrs. 
Barclay.  "Is  that  what  you  call  a  comforta- 
ble income?  How  long  do  you  think  it  would 
keep  us  alive?" 

"Added,  of  course,  to  your  son's  wages.  Ben 
is  now  able  to  earn  good  wages." 

"He  earns  four  dollars  a  week,  and  that  is 
our  main  dependence." 


82  The    Store    Boy. 

"I  congratulate  you.  I  didn't  suppose  Mr. 
Crawford  paid  such  high  wages." 

"Ben  earns  every  cent  of  it." 

"Very  possibly.  By  the  way,  what  is  this 
that  Tom  was  telling  me  about  Ben's  being 
sent  to  New  York  to  buy  goods  for  the  store?" 

"It  is  true,  if  that  is  what  you  mean." 

"Bless  my  soul !  It  is  very  strange  of  Craw- 
ford, and,  I  may  add,  not  very  judicious." 

"I  suppose  Mr.  Crawford  is  the  best  judge 
of  that,  sir." 

"Even  if  the  boy  were  competent,  which  is 
not  for  a  moment  to  be  thought  of,  it  is  cal- 
culated to  foster  his  self-conceit." 

"Ben  is  not  self-conceited,"  said  Mrs.  Bar- 
clay, ready  to  resent  any  slur  upon  her  boy. 
"He  has  excellent  business  capacity,  and  if 
he  were  older  I  should  not  need  to  ask  favors 
of  any  one." 

"You  are  a  mother,  and  naturally  set  an 
exaggerated  estimate  upon  your  son's  ability, 
which,  I  presume,  is  respectable,  but  probably 
not  more.  However,  let  that  pass.  I  did  not 
call  to  discuss  Ben,  but  to  inquire  whether 
you  had  thought  better  of  the  matter  we  dis- 
cussed the  other  evening." 

"I  never  shall,  Squire  Davenport.  When 
the  time  comes  you  can  foreclose,  if  you  like, 
but  it  will  never  be  done  with  my  consent." 

"Ahem !  Your  consent  will  not  be  required." 

"And  let  me  tell  you,  Squire  Davenport,  if 


The    Store    Boy.  83 

you  do  this  wicked  thing,  it  won't  benefit  you 
in  the  end." 

Squire  Davenport  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  am  not  at  all  surprised  to  find  you  so 
unreasonable,  Mrs.  Barclay,"  he  said.  "It's 
the  way  with  women.  I  should  be  glad  if  you 
would  come  to  look  upon  the  matter  in  a  dif- 
ferent light;  but  I  cannot  sacrifice  my  own 
interests  in  any  event.  The  law  is  on  my  side." 

"The  law  may  be  on  your  side,  but  the  law 
upholds  a  great  deal  that  is  oppressive  and 
cruel." 

"A  curious  set  of  laws  we  should  have  if 
women  made  them,"  said  the  squire, 

"They  would  not  bear  so  heavily  upon  the 
poor  as  they  do  now." 

"Well,  I  won't  stop  to  discuss  the  matter. 
If  you  come  to  entertain  different  views  about 
the  house,  send  me  word  by  Ben,  and  we  will 
arrange  the  details  without  delay.  Mr.  Kirk 
is  anxious  to  move  his  family  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, and  would  like  to  secure  the  house  at 
once." 

"He  will  have  to  wait  three  months  at  least," 
said  Mrs.  Barclay,  coldly.  "For  that  time, 
I  believe,  the  law  protects  me." 

"You  are  right  there;  but  at  the  end  of  that 
time  you  cannot  expect  as  liberal  terms  as 
we  are  now  prepared  to  offer  you." 

"Liberal!"  repeated  the  widow,  in  a  mean- 
ing tone. 


84  The    Store    Boy. 

"So  I  regard  it,"  said  the  squire,  stiffly. 
"Good-evening." 

An  hour  later  Mrs.  Barclay's  reflections 
were  broken  in  upon  by  the  ominous  clang 
of  the  engine  bell.  This  is  a  sound  which  al- 
ways excites  alarm  in  a  country  village. 

"Where's  the  fire?"  she  asked,  anxiously, 
of  a  boy  who  was  running  by  the  house. 

"It's  Crawford's  store!"  was  the  startling 
reply.  "It's  blazin'  up  like  anything.  Guess 
it'll  have  to  go." 

"I  hope  Ben'll  keep  out  of  danger,"  thought 
Mrs.  Barclay,  as  she  hurriedly  took  her  shawl 
and  bonnet  and  started  for  the  scene  of  excite- 
ment. 


The    Store    Boy.  85 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

BEN  SHOWS  HIMSELF  A  HEEO. 

A  FIRE  in  a  country  village,  particularly 
where  the  building  is  a  prominent  one,  is  sure 
to  attract  a  large  part  of  the  resident  popu- 
lation. Men,  Avomen  and  children,  as  well 
as  the  hook  and  ladder  company,  hurried  to 
the  scene  of  conflagration.  Everybody  felt  a 
personal  interest  in  Crawford's.  It  was  the 
great  emporium  which  provided  all  the  fam- 
ilies in  the  village  with  articles  of  prime  and 
secondary  necessity.  If  Paris  can  be  called 
France,  then  Crawford's  might  be  called  Pen- 
tonville. 

"Crawford's  on  fire!"  exclaimed  old  Capt, 
Manson.  "Bless  my  soul !  It  cannot  be  true. 
Where's  my  cane?" 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  goin'  to  the 
fire,  father?"  asked  his  widowed  daughter, 
in  surprise,  for  the  captain  had  bowed  beneath 
the  weight  of  eighty-six  winters,  and  rarely  left 
the  domestic  hearth. 

"Do  you  think  I'd  stay  at  home  when  Craw- 
ford's was  a-burnin'?"  returned  the  captain. 


86  The    Store    Boy. 

"But  remember,  father,  you  ain't  so  young 
as  you  used  to  be.  You  might  catch  your  death 
of  cold." 

"What!  at  a  fire?"  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
laughing  at  his  own  joke. 

"You  know  what  I  mean.  It's  dreadfully 
imprudent.  Why,  I  wouldn't  go  myself." 

"Shouldn't  think  you  would,  at  your  time 
of  life!"  retorted  her  father,  chuckling. 

So  the  old  man  emerged  into  the  street,  and 
hurried  as  fast  as  his  unsteady  limbs  would 
allow,  to  the  fire. 

"How  did  it  catch?"  the  reader  will  natu- 
rally ask. 

The  young  man  who  was  the  only  other 
salesman  besides  Ben  and  the  proprietor,  had 
gone  down  cellar  smoking  a  cigar.  In  one 
corner  was  a.  heap  of  shavings  and  loose  pa- 
pers. A  spark  from  his  cigar  must  have  fallen 
there.  Had  he  noticed  it,  with  prompt  meas- 
ures the  incipient  fire  might  have  been  extin- 
guished. But  he  went  upstairs  with  the  kero- 
sene, which  he  had  drawn  for  old  Mrs.  Watts, 
leaving  behind  him  the  seeds  of  destruction. 
Soon  the  flames,  arising,  caught  the  wooden 
flooring  of  the  upper  store.  The  smell  of  the 
smoke  notified  Crawford  and  his  clerks  of  the 
impending  disaster.  When  the  door  commu- 
nicating- with  the  basement  was  opened,  a 
stifling  smoke  issued  forth  and  the  crackling 
of  the  fire  was  heard. 

"Bun,  Ben;  give  the   alarm!"    called    Mr, 


The    Store    Boy.  87 

Crawford,  pale  with  dismay  and  apprehen- 
sion. It  was  no  time  then  to  inquire  how  the 
fire  caught.  There  was  only  time  to  save  as 
much  of  the  stock  as  possible,  since  it  was 
clear  that  the  fire  had  gained  too  great  a  head- 
way to  be  put  out. 

Ben  lost  no  time,  and  in  less  than  ten  min- 
utes the  engine,  which,  fortunately,  was  housed 
only  ten  rods  away,  was  on  the  ground. 
Though  it  was  impossible  to  save  the  store, 
the  fire  might  be  prevented  from  spreading. 
A  band  of  earnest  workers  aided  Crawford 
in  saving  his  stock.  A  large  part,  of  course, 
must  be  sacrificed ;  but,  perhaps,  a  quarter  was 
saved. 

All  at  once  a  terrified  whisper  spread  from 
one  to  another : 

"Mrs.  Morton's  children!  Where  are  they? 
They  must  be  in  the  third  story." 

A  poor  woman,  Mrs.  Morton,  had  been  al- 
lowed, with  her  two  children,  to  enjoy,  tem- 
porarily, two  rooms  in  the  third  story.  She 
had  gone  to  a  farmer's  two  miles  away  to  do 
some  work,  and  her  children,  seven  and  nine 
years  of  age,  had  remained  at  home.  They 
seemed  doomed  to  certain  death. 

But,  even  as  the  inquiry  went  from  lip  to 
lip,  the  children  appeared.  They  had  clam- 
bered out  of  a  third-story  window  upon  the 
sloping  roof  of  the  rear  ell,  and,  pale  and  dis- 
mayed, stood  in  sight  of  the  shocked  and  ter- 
rified crowd,  shrieking  for  help ! 


88  The    Store    Boy. 

"A  ladder!  A  ladder!"  exclaimed  half  a 
dozen. 

But  there  was  no  ladder  at  hand — none 
nearer  than  Mr.  Parmenter's,  five  minutes' 
walk  away.  While  a  messenger  was  getting 
it  the  fate  of  the  children  would  be  decided. 

"Tell  'em  to  jump !"  exclaimed  Silas  Carver. 

"They'd  break  their  necks,  you  fool!"  re- 
turned his  wife. 

"Better  do  that  than  be  burned  up!"  said 
the  old  man. 

No  one  knew  what  to  do — no  one  but  Ben 
Barclay. 

He  seized  a  coil  of  rope,  and  with  a  speed 
which  surprised  even  himself,  climbed  up  a 
tall  oak  tree,  whose  branches  overshadowed 
the  roof  of  the  ell  part.  In  less  than  a  min- 
ute he  found  himself  on  a  limb  just  over  the 
children.  To  the  end  of  the  rope  was  fas- 
tened a  strong  iron  hook. 

Undismayed  by  his  own  danger,  Ben  threw 
his  rope,  though  he  nearly  lost  his  footing 
while  he  was  doing  it,  and  with  an  aim  so 
precise  that  the  hook  caught  in  the  smaller 
girl's  dress.  - 

"Hold  on  to  the  rope,  Jennie,  if  you  can!" 
he  shouted. 

The  girl  obeyed  him  instinctively. 

Drawing  the  cord  hand  over  hand,  the  lit- 
tle girl  swung  clear,  and  was  lowered  into 
the  arms  of  Ebenezer  Strong,  who  detached 
the  hook  from  the  little  girl's  dress, 


The    Store    Boy.  89 

"Save  the  other,  Ben!"  shouted  a  dozen. 

Ben  needed  no  spur  to  further  effort. 

Again  he  threw  the  hook,  and  this  time  the 
older  girl,  comprehending  what  was  required, 
caught  the  rope  and  swung  off  the  roof  scarcely 
in  time,  for  her  clothing  had  caught  fire.  But, 
when  she  reached  the  ground,  ready  hands  ex- 
tinguished it  and  the  crowd  of  anxious  specta- 
tors breathed  more  freely,  as  Ben,  throwing 
down  the  rope,  rapidly  descended  the  tree  and 
stood  once  more  in  safety,  having  saved  two 
lives. 

Just  then  the  poor  mother,  almost  frantic 
with  fear,  arrived  on  the  ground. 

"Where  are  my  darlings?  Who  will  save 
them?"  she  exclaimed,  full  of  anguish,  not  yet 
comprehending  that  they  were  out  of  peril. 

"They  are  safe,  and  here  is  the  brave  boy 
who  saved  their  lives,"  said  Ebenezer  Strong. 

"God  bless  you,  Ben  Barclay!"  exclaimed 
the  poor  mother.  "You  have  saved  my  life 
as  well  as  theirs,  for  I  should  have  died  if  they 
had  burned." 

Ben  scarcely  heard  her,  for  one  and  another 
came  up  to  shake  his  hand  and  congratulate 
him  upon  his  brave  deed.  Our  young  hero 
was  generally  self-possessed,  but  he  hardly 
knew  how  to  act  when  he  found  himself  an 
object  of  popular  ovation. 

"Somebody  else  would  have  done  it  if  I  had 
not,"  he  said  modestly. 

"You  are  the  only  one  who  had  his  wits 


9O  The    Store    Boy. 

about  him,"  said  Seth  Jones.  "No  one  thought 
of  the  rope  till  you  climbed  the  tree.  We 
were  all  looking  for  a  ladder  and  there  was 
none  to  be  had  nearer  than  Mr.  Parmenter's." 

"I  wouldn't  have  thought  of  it  myself  if 
I  hadn't  read  in  a  daily  paper  of  something 
like  it,"  said  Ben. 

"Ben,"  said  Mr.  Crawford,  "I'd  give  a  thou- 
sand dollars  to  have  done  what  you  did.  You 
have  shown  yourself  a  hero." 

"Oh,  Ben,  how  frightened  I  was  when  I  saw 
you  on  the  branch  just  over  the  burning  build- 
ing," said  a  well-known  voice. 

Turning,  Ben  saw  his  mother  beside  him. 

"Well,  it's  all  right  now,  mother,"  he  said, 
smiling.  "You  are  not  sorry  I  did  it?" 

"Sorry !     I  am  proud  of  you." 

"I  am  not  proud  of  my  hands,"  said  Ben. 
"Look  at  them." 

They  were  chafed  and  bleeding,  having  been 
lacerated  by  his  rapid  descent  from  the  tree. 

"Come  home,  Ben,  and  let  me  put  some  salve 
on  them.  How  they  must  pain  you !" 

"Wait  till  the  fire  is  all  over,  mother." 

The  gallant  firemen  did  all  they  could,  but 
the  store  was  doomed.  They  could  only  pre- 
vent it  from  extending.  In  half  an  hour  the 
engine  was  taken  back,  and  Ben  went  home 
with  his  mother. 

"It's  been  rather  an  exciting  evening, 
mother,"  said  Ben.  "I  rather  think  I  shall 
have  to  find  a  new  place." 


The    Store    Boy.  91 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

BEN    LOSES    HIS    PLACE. 

BEN  did  not  find  himself  immediately  out 
of  employment.  The  next  morning  Mr.  Craw- 
ford commenced  the  work  of  ascertaining 
what  articles  he  had  saved,  and  storing  them. 
Luckily,  there  was  a  vacant  store  which  had 
once  been  used  for  a  tailor's  shop,  but.  had 
been  unoccupied  for  a  year  or  more.  This 
he  hired,  and  at  once  removed  his  goods  to 
it.  But  he  did  not  display  his  usual  energy. 
He  was  a  man  of  over  sixty,  and  no  longer 
possessed  the  enterprise  and  ambition  which 
had  once  characterized  him.  Besides,  he  was 
very  comfortably  off,  or  would  be  when  he  ob- 
tained the  insurance  money. 

"I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do,"  he  said, 
when  questioned.  "I  was  brought  up  on  a 
farm,  and  I  always  meant  to  end  my  days 
on  one.  Perhaps  now  is  as  well  as  any  time, 
since  my  business  is  broken  up." 

This  came  to  the  ears  of  Squire  Davenport, 
who  was  always  keen-scented  for  a  bargain. 
His  wife's  cousin,  Mr.  Kirk,  who  has  already 
been  introduced  to  the  reader,  had,  in  his 


92  The    Store    Boy. 

earlier  days,  served  as  a  clerk  in  a  country 
store.  He  had  no  capital,  to  be  sure,  but  the 
squire  had  plenty.  It  occurred  to  him  as  a 
good  plan  to  buy  out  the  business  himself,  hire 
Kirk  on  a  salary  to  conduct  it,  and  so  add  con- 
siderably to  his  already  handsome  income.  He 
sent  for  Kirk,  ascertained  that  he  was  not  only 
willing,  but  anxious,  to  manage  the  business, 
and  then  called  on  Mr.  Crawford. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  the  negotiations 
that  ensued.  It  was  Squire  Davenport's  wish 
to  obtain  the  business  as  cheaply  as  possible. 
The  storekeeper,  however,  had  his  own  esti- 
mate of  its  worth,  and  the  squire  was  obliged 
to  add  considerable  to  his  first  offer.  In  the 
end,  however,  he  secured  it  on  advantageous 
terms,  and  Mr.  Crawford  now  felt  able  to 
carry  out  the  plan  he  had  long  had  in  view. 

It  was  in  the  evening,  a  week  after  the  fire, 
that  the  bargain  was  struck,  and  Ben  was  one 
of  the  first  to  hear  of  it. 

When  he  came  to  work  early  the  next  morn- 
ing he  found  his  employer  in  the  store  be- 
fore him,  which  was  not  usual. 

"You  are  early,  Mr.  Crawford,"  he  said,  in 
evident  surprise. 

"Yes,  Ben,"  was  the  reply.  "I  can  afford 
to  come  early  for  a  morning  or  two,  as  I  shall 
soon  be  out  of  business." 

"You  haven't  sold  out,  have  you?"  inquired 
Ben,  quickly. 

"Yes;  the  bargain  was  struck  last  evening." 


The    Store    Boy.  93 

"How  soon  do  you  leave  the  store?" 

"In  three  days.  It  will  take  that  time  to 
make  up  my  accounts." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Ben,  "for  I  suppose  I 
shall  have  to  retire,  too." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  Ben.  Very  likely 
my  successor  may  want  you." 

"That  depends  on  who  he  is.  Do  you  mind 
telling  me,  or  is  it  a  secret?" 

"Oh,  no ;  it  will  have  to  come  out,  of  course. 
Squire  Davenport  has  bought,  the  business." 

"The  squire  isn't  going  to  keep  the  store, 
is  he?"  asked  Ben,  in  amazement. 

"No;  though  he  will,  no  doubt,  supervise  it. 
He  will  employ  a  manager." 

"Do  you  know  who  is  to  be  the  manager, 
Mr.  Crawford?" 

"Some  connection  of  his  named  Kirk." 

Ben  whistled. 

"Do  you  know  him?"  the  storekeeper  was 
led  to  inquire. 

"I  have  not  seen  him,  but  he  called  with 
the  squire  on  my  mother,"  said  Ben,  signifi- 
cantly. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  recommend  you  to  him." 

"It  will  be  of  no  use,  Mr.  Crawford,"  an- 
swered Ben,  in  a  decided  tone.  "I  know  he 
wouldn't  employ  me,  nor  would  I  work  for 
him  if  he  would.  Neither  he  nor  the  squire 
is  a  friend  of  mine." 

"I  did  not  dream  of  this,  Ben.  I  am  sorry 
if  the  step  I  have  taken  is  going  to  deprive 


94  The    Store    Boy. 

you  of  employment,"  said  Mr.  Crawford,  who 
was  a  kind-hearted  man,  and  felt  a  sincere 
interest  in  his  young  clerk. 

"Never  mind,  Mr.  Crawford,  I  am  not  cast 
down.  There 'will  be  other  openings  for  me. 
I  am  young,  strong  and  willing  to  work,  and 
I  am  sure  I  shall  find  something  to  do." 

"That's  right,  Ben.  Cheer  up,  and  if  I  hear 
of  any  good  chance,  rest  assured  that  I  will 
let  you  know  of  it." 

Tom  Davenport  was  not  long  in  hearing 
of  his  father's  bargain.  He  heard  it  with  un- 
feigned pleasure,  for  it  occurred  to  him  at 
once  that  Ben,  for  whom  he  had  a  feeling  of 
hatred,  by  no  means  creditable  to  him,  would 
be  thrown  out  of  employment. 

"Promise  me,  pa,  that  you  won't  employ 
Ben  Barclay,"  he  said. 

"I  have  no  intention  of  employing  that  boy," 
said  his  father.  "Mr.  Kirk  has  a  son  of  his 
own,  about  Ben's  age,  and  will,  no  doubt,  put 
him  into  the  store,  unless  you  should  choose 
to  go  in  and  learn  the  business." 

"What!  I  become  a  store  boy!"  exclaimed 
Tom  in  disgust.  "No,  thank  you.  I  might 
be  willing  to  become  salesman  in  a  large  es- 
tablishment in  the  city,  but  I  don't  care  to  go 
into  a  country  grocery." 

"It  wouldn't  do  you  any  harm,"  said  the 
squire,  who  was  not  quite  so  high-minded  as 
his  son.  "However,  I  merely  mentioned  it  as 
something  you  could  do,  if  you  chose." 


The    Store    Boy.  95 

"Bah!  I  don't  choose  it,"  said  Tom,  de- 
cidedly. 

"Well,  well;  you  won't  have  to  do  it." 

"It  would  put  me  on  a  level  witli  Ben  Bar- 
clay, if  I  stepped  into  his  shoes.  Won't  he 
be  down  in  the  mouth  when  he  hears  he  has 
lost  his  place?"  and  Tom  chuckled  at  the 
thought. 

"That  is  no  concern  of  mine,"  said  the 
squire.  "I  suppose  he  can  hire  out  to  a 
farmer." 

"Just  the  business  for  him,"  said  Tom,  "un- 
less he  should  prefer  to  go  to  New  York  and 
set  up  as  a  bootblack.  I  believe  I'll  suggest 
that  to  him!" 

"Probably  he  won't  thank  you  for  the  sug- 
gestion." 

"I  guess  not.  He's  as  proud  as  he  is  poor. 
It's  amusing  to  see  what  airs  he  puts  on." 

Squire  Davenport,  however,  was  not  so  much 
interested  in  that  phase  of  the  subject  as  Tom, 
and  did  not  reply. 

"I  think  I'll  go  down  street,"  thought  Tom. 
"Perhaps  I  may  come  across  Ben.  I  shall  en- 
joy seeing  how  he  takes  it." 

Tom  had  scarcely  walked  a  hundred  yards 
when  he  met,  not  the  one  of  whom  he  had 
thought,  but  another  to  whom  he  felt  glad  to 
speak  on  the  same  subject.  This  was  Rose 
Gardiner,  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  village,  who 
has  already  deeply  offended  Tom  by  accepting 
Ben  as  her  escort  from  the  magical  entertain- 


96  The    Store    Boy. 

ment  in  place  of  him.  He  had  made  advances 
since,  being  desirous  of  ousting  Ben  from  his 
position  of  favorite,  but  the  young  lady  had 
treated  him  coldly,  much  to  his  anger  and 
mortification. 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Rose,"  said  Tom,  re- 
moving his  hat. 

"Good-morning,"  answered  Rose,  civilly. 

"Have  you  heard  the  news?" 

"To  what  news  do  you  refer?" 

"Crawford  has  sold  out  his  business." 

"Indeed!"  said  Rose,  in  surprise;  "who  has 
bought  it?" 

"My  father.  Of  course,  he  won't  keep  store 
himself.  He  will  put  in  a  connection  of  ours, 
Mr.  Kirk." 

"This  is  news,  indeed !  Where  is  Mr.  Craw- 
ford going?" 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  I  thought  you'd 
be  more  apt  to  inquire  about  somebody  else?" 

"I  am  not  good  at  guessing  enigmas,"  said 
Rose. 

"Your  friend,  Ben  Barclay,"  returned  Tom, 
with  a  sneer.  "Father  won't  have  him  in  the 
store!" 

"Oh,  I  see;  you  are  going  to  take  his  place," 
said  Rose,  mischievously. 

"I?  What  do  you  take  me  for?"  said  Tom, 
haughtily.  "I  suppose  Ben  Barclay  will  have 
to  go  to  work  on  a  farm." 

"That  is  a  very  honorable  employment,"  said 
Rose,  calmly. 


The    Store    Boy.  97 

"Yes;  he  can  be  a  hired  man  when  he  grows 
up.  Perhaps,  though,  he  will  prefer  to  go  to 
the  city,  and  become  a  bootblack." 

"Ben  ought  to  be  very  much  obliged  to  you 
for  the  interest  you  feel  in  his  welfare,"  said 
Kose,  looking  steadily  and  scornfully  at  Tom. 
"Good-morning." 

"She  feels  sore  about  it,"  thought  Tom,  com- 
placently. "She  won't  be  quite  so  ready  to  ac- 
cept Ben's  attentions  when  he  is  a  farm  la- 
borer." 

Tom,  however,  didn't  understand  Kose  Gar- 
diner. She  was  a  girl  of  good  sense,  and  her 
estimate  of  others  was  founded  on  something 
else  than  social  position. 


The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

BEN   FINDS  TEMPORARY   EMPLOYMENT. 

"On,  Ben,  what  shall  we  do?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Barclay,  when  she  heard  Mr.  Crawford 
had  sold  out  his  business. 

"We'll  get  along  somehow,  mother.  Some- 
thing will  be  sure  to  turn  up." 

Ben  spoke  more  cheerfully  than  he  felt. 
He  knew  very  well  that  Pentonville  presented 
scarcely  any  field  for  a  boy,  unless  he  was  will- 
ing to  work  on  a  farm.  Now,  Ben  had  no 
objections  to  farm  labor,  provided  he  had  a 
farm  of  his  own,  but  at  the  rate  such  labor 
was  paid  in  Pentonville,  there  was  very  little 
chance  of  ever  rising  above  the  position  of 
a  "hired  man,"  if  he  once  adopted  the  busi- 
ness. Our  young  hero  felt  that  this  would 
not  satisfy  him.  He  was  enterprising  and  am- 
bitious, and  wanted  to  be  a  rich  man  some 
day. 

Money  is  said,  by  certain  moralists,  to  be 
the  root  of  all  evil.  The  love  of  money,  if 
carried  too  far,  may  indeed  lead  to  evil,  but 
it  is  a  natural  ambition  in  any  boy  or  man 


The    Store    Boy.  99 

to  wish  to  raise  himself  above  poverty.  The 
wealth  of  Amos  Lawrence  and  Peter  Cooper 
was  a  source  of  blessing  to  mankind,  yet  each 
started  as  a  poor  boy,  and  neither  would  have 
become  rich  if  he  had  not  striven  hard  to  be- 
come so. 

When  Ben  made  this  cheerful  answer  his 
mother  shook  her  head  sadly.  She  \vas  not 
so  hopeful  as  Ben,  and  visions  of  poverty  pre- 
sented themselves  before  her  mind. 

"I  don't  see  what  you  can  find  to  do  in  Pen- 
tonville,  Ben,"  she  said. 

"I  can  live  a  while  without  work  while  I  am 
looking  around,  mother,"  Ben  answered.  "We 
have  got  all  that  money  I  brought  from  New 
York  yet." 

"It  won't  last  long,"  said  his  mother,  de- 
spondently. 

"It  will  last  till  I  can  earn  some  more," 
answered  Ben,  hopefully. 

Ben  was  about  to  leave  the  house  when  a 
man  in  a  farmer's  frock,  driving  a  yoke  of 
oxen,  stopped  his  team  in  the  road,  and  turned 
in  at  the  widow's  gate. 

It  was  Silas  Greyson,  the  owner  of  a  farm 
just  out  of  the  village. 

"Did  you  want  to  see  mother?"  asked  Ben. 

"No,  I  wanted  to  see  you,  Benjamin,"  an- 
swered Greyson.  "I  hear  you've  left  the  store." 

"The  store  has  changed  hands,  and  the  new 
storekeeper  don't  want  me." 

"Do  you  want  a  job?" 


100  The    Store    Boy. 

"What  is  it,  Mr.  Greyson?"  Ben  replied, 
answering  one  question  with  another. 

"I  am  goin'  to  get  in  wood  for  the  winter 
from  my  wood  lot  for  about  a  week,"  said 
the  farmer,  "and  I  want  help.  Are  you  will- 
in'  to  hire  out  for  a  week?" 

"What'll  you  pay  me?"  asked  Ben. 

"I'll  keep  you,  and  give  you  a  cord  of  wood. 
Your  mother'll  find  it  handy.  I'm  short  of 
money,  and  calculate  wood'll  be  just  as  good 
pay." 

Ben  thought  over  the  proposal,  and  an- 
swered :  "I'd  rather  take  my  meals  at  home, 
Mr.  Greyson,  and  if  you'll  make  it  two  cords 
with  that  understanding,  I'll  agree  to  hire  out 
to  you." 

"Ain't  that  rather  high?"  asked  the  farmer, 
hesitating. 

"I  don't  think  so." 

Finally  Silas  Greyson  agreed,  and  Ben 
promised  to  be  on  hand  bright  and  early  the 
next  day.  It  may  be  stated  here  that  wood 
was  very  cheap  at  Pentonville,  so  that  Ben 
would  not  be  overpaid. 

There  were  some  few  things  about  the  house 
which  Ben  wished  to  do  for  his  mother  be- 
fore lie  went  to  work  anywhere,  and  he 
thought  this  a  good  opportunity  to  do 
them.  While  in  the  store  his  time  had  been 
so  taken  up  that  he  was  unable  to  attend  to 
them.  He  passed  a  busy  day,  therefore,  and 
hardly  went  into  the  street. 


The    Store    Boy.  101 

Just  at  nightfall,  as  he  was  in  the  front 
yard,  he  was  rather  surprised  to  see  Tom 
Davenport  open  the  gate  and  enter. 

"What  does  he  want,  I  wonder?"  he  thought, 
but  he  said,  in  a  civil  tone:  "Good-evening, 
Tom." 

"You're  out  of  business,  ain't  you?"  asked 
Tom,  abruptly. 

"I'm  not  out  of  work,  at  any  rate !"  answered 
Ben. 

"Why,  what  work  are  you  doing?"  inter- 
rogated Tom,  in  evident  disappointment. 

"I've  been  doing  some  jobs  about  the  house 
for  mother." 

"That  won't  give  you  a  living,"  said  Tom, 
disdainfully. 

"Very  true." 

"Did  you  expect  to  stay  in  the  store?"  asked 
Tom. 

"Not  after  I  heard  that  your  father  had 
bought  it,"  answered  Ben,  quietly. 

"My  father's  willing  to  give  you  work," 
said  Tom. 

"Is  he?"  asked  Ben,  very  much  surprised. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  perhaps  he  would 
have  a  chance  to  remain  in  the  store  after 
all,  and  for  the  present  that  would  have  suited 
him.  Though  he  didn't  like  the  squire,  or  Mr. 
Kirk,  he  felt  that  he  had  no  right,  in  his  pres- 
ent circumstances,  to  refuse  any  way  to  earn 
^n  honest  living. 


102  The    Store    Boy. 

"Yes,"  answered  Tom.  "I  told  him  he'd 
better  hire  you." 

"You  did!"  exclaimed  Ben,  more  and  more 
amazed.  "I  didn't  expect  that.  However,  go 
on,  if  you  please." 

"He's  got  three  cords  of  wood  that  he  wants 
sawed  and  split,"  said  Tom,  "and  as  I  knew 
how  poor  you  were  I  thought  it  would  be  a 
good  chance  for  you." 

You  might  have  thought  from  Tom's  man- 
ner that  he  was  a  young  lord,  and  Ben  a  peas- 
ant. Ben  was  not  angry,  but  amused. 

"It  is  true,"  he  said.  "I  am  not  rich;  still, 
I  am  not  as  poor  as  you  think." 

He  happened  to  have  in  his  pocketbook  the 
money  he  had  brought  from  New  York,  and 
this  he  took  from  his  pocket,  and  displayed 
to  the  astonished  Tom. 

"Where  did  you  get  that  money?"  asked 
Tom,  surprised  and  chagrined. 

"I  got  it  honestly.  You  see  we  can  hold 
out  a  few  days.  However,  I  may  be  willing 
to  accept  the  job  you  offer  me.  How  much 
is  your  father  willing  to  pay  me?" 

"He  is  willing  to  give  you  forty  cents  a 
day." 

"How  long  does  he  expect  me  to  work  for 
that?" 

"Ten  hours." 

"That  is  four  cents  an  hour,  and  hard  work 
at  that.  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  and  him. 


The-  Store    Boy.  103 

Tom,  for  your  liberal  offer,  but  I  can't  accept 
it" 

"You'll  see  the  time  when  you'll  be  glad 
to  take  such  a  job,"  said  Tom,  who  was  person- 
ally disappointed  that  he  would  not  be  able 
to  exhibit  Ben  as  his  father's  hired  depend- 
ent. 

"You  seem  to  know  all  about  it,  Tom,"  an- 
swered Ben.  "I  shall  be  at  work  all  next 
week,  at  much  higher  pay,  for  Silas  Greyson." 

"How  much  does  he  pay  you?" 

"That  is  my  private  business,  and  wouldn't 
interest  you." 

"You're  mighty  independent  for  a  boy  in 
your  position." 

"Very  likely.     Won't  you  come  in?" 

"No,"  answered  Tom,  ungraciously;  "I've 
wasted  too  much  time  here  already." 

"I  understand  Tom's  object  in  wanting  to 
hire  me,"  thought  Ben.  "He  wants  to  order 
me  around.  Still,  if  the  squire  had  been  will- 
ing to  pay  a  decent  price,  I  would  have  ac- 
cepted the  job.  I  won't  let  pride  stand  in 
the  way  of  my  supporting  mother  and  myself." 

This  was  a  sensible  and  praiseworthy  res- 
olution, as  I  hope  my  young  readers  will  ad- 
mit. I  don't  think  much  of  the  pride  that  is 
willing  to  let  others  suffer  in  order  that  it 
may  be  gratified. 

Ben  worked  a  full  week  for  Farmer  Grey- 
son,  and  helped  unload  the  two  cords  of  wood, 
which  were  his  wages,  in  his  mother's  yard, 


IO4  The    Store    Boy. 

Then  there  were  two  days  of  idleness,  which 
made  him  anxious.  On  the  second  day,  just 
after  supper,  he  met  Eose  Gardiner  coming 
from  the  post  office. 

"Have  you  any  correspondents  in  New  York, 
Ben?"  she  asked. 

"What  makes  you  ask,  Rose?" 

"Because  the  postmaster  told  me  there  was 
a  letter  for  you  by  this  evening's  mail.  It 
was  mailed  in  New  York,  and  was  directed 
in  a  lady's  hand.  I  hope  you  haven't  been 
flirting  with  any  New  York  ladies,  Mr.  Bar- 
clay." 

"The  only  lady  I  know  in  New  York  is  at 
least  fifty  years  old,"  answered  Ben,  smiling. 

"That  is  satisfactory,"  answered  Kose,  sol- 
emnly. "Then  I  won't  be  jealous." 

"What  can  the  letter  be?"  thought  Ben.  "I 
hope  it  contains  good  news." 

He  hurried  to  the  post  office  in  a  fever  of 
excitement. 


The    Store    Boy.  105 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

WHAT  THE  LETTER  CONTAINED. 

"I  HEAR  there  is  a  letter  for  me,  Mr.  Brown," 
said  Ben  to  the  postmaster,  who  was  folding 
the  evening  papers,  of  which  he  received  a  par- 
cel from  the  city  by  the  afternoon  train. 

"Yes,  Ben,"  answered  the  postmaster,  smil- 
ing. "It  appears  to  be  from  a  lady  in  New 
York.  You  must  have  improved  your  time 
during  your  recent  visit  to  the  city?" 

"I  made  the  acquaintance  of  one  lady  older 
then  my  mother,"  answered  Ben.  "I  didn't 
flirt  with  her  any." 

"At  any  rate,  I  should  judge  that  she  be- 
came interested  in  you  or  she  wouldn't  write." 

"I  hope  she  did,  for  she  is  very  wealthy," 
returned  Ben. 

The  letter  was  placed  in  his  hands,  and  he 
quickly  tore  it  open. 

Something  dropped  from  it. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  the  postmaster. 

Ben  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  and,  to  his 
surprise,  discovered  that  it  was  a  ten-dollar 
bill. 

"That's  a  correspondent  worth  having,"  said 


io6  The    Store    Boy. 

Mr.  Brown,  jocosely.     "Can't  you  give  me  a 
letter  of  introduction?" 

Ben  didn't  answer,  for  he  was  by  this  time 
deep  in  the  letter.  We  will  look  over  his 
shoulder  and  read  it  with  him.  It  ran  thus: 

"No.  —  MADISON  AVENUE, 

"NEW  YORK,  October  5. 
"MY  DEAR  YOUNG  FRIEND: 

"Will  you  come  to  New  York  and  call  upon 
me?  I  have  a  very  pleasant  remembrance  of 
you  and  the  service  you  did  me  recently,  and 
I  think  I  can  employ  you  in  other  ways  to 
our  mutual  advantage.  I  am  willing  to  pay 
you  a  higher  salary  than  you  are  receiving 
in  your  country  home,  besides  providing  you 
with  a  home  in  my  own  house.  I  inclose  ten 
dollars  for  expenses.  Yours,  with  best  wishes, 

"HELEN  HAMILTON." 

Ben's  heart  beat  with  joyful  excitement  as 
he  read  this  letter.  It  could  not  have  come 
at  a  better  time,  for,  as  we  know,  he  was  out 
of  employment,  and,  of  course,  earning  noth- 
ing. 

"Well,  Ben,"  said  the  postmaster,  whose  cu- 
riosity was  excited,  "is  it  good  news?" 

"I  should  say  it  was,"  said  Ben,  emphatic- 
ally. "I  am  offered  a  good  situation  in  New 
York." 

"You  don't  say  so!  How  much  are  you  of- 
fered?" 

"I  am  to  get  more  than  Mr.  Crawford  paid 


The    Store    Boy.  107 

me,  and  board  in  a  fine  house  besides — a 
brownstone  house  on  Madison  Avenue." 

"Well,  I  declare!  You  are  in  luck,"  ejacu- 
lated Mr.  Brown.  "What  are  you  to  do?" 

"That's  more  than  I  know.  Here  is  the  let- 
ter, if  you  like  to  read  it." 

"It  reads  well.  She  must  be  a  generous 
lady.  But  what  will  your  mother  say  to  your 
leaving  her?" 

"That's  what  I  don't  know,"  said  Ben,  look- 
ing suddenly  sober.  "I  hate  to  leave  her,  but 
it  is  for  my  good." 

"Mothers  are  self-sacrificing  when  the  in- 
terests of  their  children  are  concerned." 

"I  know  that,"  said  Ben,  promptly;  "and 
I've  got  one  of  the  best  mothers  going." 

"So  you  have.  Every  one  likes  and  respects 
Mrs.  Barclay." 

Any  boy,  who  is  worth  anything,  likes  to 
hear  his  mother  praised,  and  Ben  liked  Mr. 
Brown  better  for  this  tribute  to  the  one  whom 
he  loved  best  on  earth.  He  was  not  slow  in 
making  his  way  home.  He  went  at  once  to 
the  kitchen,  where  his  mother  was  engaged  in 
mixing  bread. 

"What's  the  matter,  Ben?  You  look  ex- 
cited," said  Mrs.  Barclay. 

"So  I  am,  mother.     I  am  offered  a  place." 

"Not  in  the  store?" 

"No ;  it  is  in  New  York." 

"In  New  York!"  repeated  his  mother,  in  a 
troubled  voice.  "It  would  cost  you  all  you 


io8  The    Store    Boy. 

could  make  to  pay  your  board  in  some  cheap 
boarding  house.  If  it  were  really  going  to 
be  for  your  good,  I  might  consent  to  part 
with  you,  but " 

"Read  that  letter,  mother,"  said  Ben.  "You 
will  see  that  I  shall  have  an  elegant  home  and 
a  salary  besides.  It  is  a  chance  in  a  thou- 
sand." 

Mrs.  Barclay  read  the  letter  carefully. 

"Can  I  go,  mother?"  asked  Ben,  anxiously. 

"It  will  be  a  sacrifice  for  me  to  part  with 
you,  Ben,"  returned  his  mother,  slowly ;  "but 
I  agree  with  you  that  it  is  a  rare  chance,  and 
I  should  be  doing  wrong  to  stand  in  the  way 
of  your  good  fortune.  Mrs.  Hamilton  must 
have  formed  a  very  good  opinion  of  you." 

"She  may  be  disappointed  in  me,"  said  Ben, 
modestly. 

"I  don't  think  she  will,"  said  Mrs.  Barclay, 
with  a  proud  and  affectionate  glance  at  her 
boy.  "You  have  always  been  a  good  son,  and 
that  is  the  best  of  recommendations." 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  too  partial,  mother. 
I  shall  hate  to  leave  you  alone." 

"I  can  bear  loneliness  if  I  know  you  are 
prospering,  Ben." 

"And  it  will  only  be  for  a  time,  mother. 
When  I  am  a  young  man  and  earning  a  good 
income,  I  shall  want  you  to  come  and  live  with 
me." 

"All  in  good  time.  Ben.  How  soon  do  you 
want  to  go?" 


The    Store    Boy.  109 

"I  think  it  better  to  lose  no  time,  mother. 
You  know  I  have  no  work  to  keep  me  in  Pen- 
tonville." 

"But  it  will  take  two  or  three  days  to  get 
your  clothes  ready." 

"You  can  send  them  to  me  by  express.  I 
shall  send  you  the  address." 

Mrs.  Barclay  was  a  fond  mother,  but  she 
was  also  a  sensible  woman.  She  felt  that  Ben 
was  right,  and,  though  it  seemed  very  sudden, 
she  gave  him  the  permission  to  start  the  next 
morning.  Had  she  objected  strenuously,  Ben 
would  have  given  up  his  plan,  much  as  he  de- 
sired it,  for  he  felt  that  his  mother  had  the 
strongest  claims  upon  him,  and  he  would  not 
have  been  willing  to  run  counter  to  her 
wishes. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Ben?"  asked  his 
mother,  as  Ben  put  on  his  hat  and  moved  to- 
ward the  door. 

"I  thought  I  would  like  to  call  on  Rose  Gar- 
diner to  say  good-by,"  answered  Ben. 

"Quite  right,  my  son.  Rose  is  a  good  friend 
of  yours,  and  an  excellent  girl." 

"I  say  ditto  to  that,  mother,"  Ben  answered, 
warmly. 

I  am  not  going  to  represent  Ben  as  being 
in  love — he  was  too  young  for  that — but,  like 
many  boys  of  his  age,  he  felt  a  special  attrac- 
tion in  the  society  of  one  young  girl.  His 
good  taste  was  certainly  not  at  fault  in  his 
choice  of  Rose  Gardiner,  who,  far  from  being 


i  io  The    Store    Boy. 

frivolous  and  fashionable,  was  a  girl  of  ster- 
ling traits,  who  was  not  above  making  herself 
useful  in  the  household  of  which  she  formed  a 
part. 

On  his  way  to  the  home  of  Rose  Gardiner, 
Ben  met  Tom  Davenport. 

"How  are  you  getting  along?"  asked  Tom, 
not  out  of  interest,  but  curiosity. 

"Very  well,  thank  you." 

"Have  you  got  through  helping  the  farmer?" 

"Yes." 

"It  was  a  very  long  job.  Have  you  thought 
better  of  coming  to  saw  wood  for  father?" 

"No;  I  have  thought  worse  of  it,"  answered 
Ben,  smiling. 

"You  are  too  proud.  Poor  and  proud  don't 
agree." 

"Not  at  all.  I  would  have  had  no  objection 
to  the  work.  It  was  the  pay  I  didn't  like." 

"You  can't  earn  more  than  forty  cents  a 
day  at  anything  else." 

"You  are  mistaken.  I  am  going  to  New 
York  to-morrow  to  take  a  place,  where  I  get 
board  and  considerable  more  money  besides." 

"Is  that  true?"  asked  Tom,  looking  as  if 
he  had  lost  his  best  friend. 

"Quite  so.  The  party  inclosed  ten  dollars 
to  pay  my  expenses  up  to  the  city." 

"He  must  be  a  fool." 

"Thank  you.     It  happens  to  be  a  lady." 

"What  are  you  to  do?" 

"I  don't  know  yet.     I  am  sure  I  shall  be  well 


The    Store    Boy.  in 

paid.  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me  now, 
as  I  am  going  to  call  on  Rose  Gardiner  to  bid 
her  good-by." 

"I  dare  say  she  would  excuse  you,"  said 
Tom,  with  a  sneer. 

"Perhaps  so ;  but  I  wouldn't  like  to  go  with- 
out saying  good-by." 

"At  any  rate,  he  will  be  out  of  my  way," 
thought  Tom,  "and  I  can  monopolize  Rose. 
I'm  glad  he's  going." 

He  bade  Ben  an  unusually  civil  good-night, 
as  this  thought  occurred  to  him. 


112  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

FAREWELL    TO     PENTONVILLE. 

"I  HAVE  come  to  say  good-by,  Rose,"  said 
Ben,  as  the  young  lady  made  her  appearance. 

"Good-by !"  repeated  Rose,  in  surprise. 
"Why,  where  are  you  going?" 

"To  New  York." 

"But  you  are  coming  back  again?" 

"I  hope  so,  but  only  for  a  visit  now  and 
then.  I  am  offered  a  position  in  the  city." 

"Isn't  that  rather  sudden?"  said  Rose,  after 
a  pause. 

Ben  explained  how  he  came  to  be  offered  em- 
ployment. 

"I  am  to  receive  higher  pay  than  I  did  here, 
and  a  home  besides,"  he  added,  in  a  tone  of 
satisfaction.  "Don't  you  think  I  am  lucky?" 

"Yes,  Ben,  and  I  rejoice  in  your  good  for- 
tune; but  I  shall  miss  you  so  much,"  said 
Rose,  frankly. 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  returned  Ben.  "I  hoped 
you  would  miss  me  a  little.  You'll  go  and 
see  mother  now  and  then,  won't  you?  She 
will  feel  very  lonely." 


The    Store    Boy.  113 

"You  may  be  sure  I  will.  It  is  a  pity  you 
have  to  go  away.  A  great  many  will  be  sorry." 

"I  know  some  one  who  won't." 

aWho  is  that?" 

"Tom  Davenport." 

Rose  smiled.  She  had  a  little  idea  why  Tom 
would  not  regret  Ben's  absence. 

"Tom  could  be  spared,  as  well  as  not,"  she 
said. 

"He  is  a  strong  admirer  of  yours,  I  believe," 
said  Ben,  mischievously. 

"I  don't  admire  him,"  retorted  Rose,  with  a 
little  toss  of  her  head. 

Ben  heard  this  with  satisfaction,  for  though 
he  was  too  young  to  be  a  lover,  he  did  have 
a  strong  feeling  of  attraction  toward  Rose, 
and  would  have  been  sorry  to  have  Tom  step 
into  his  place. 

As  Ben  was  preparing  to  go,  Rose  said: 

"Wait  a  minute,  Ben." 

She  left  the  room  and  went  upstairs,  but 
returned  almost  immediately,  with  a  small 
knit  purse. 

"Won't  you  accept  this,  Ben?"  she  said.  "I 
just  finished  it  yesterday.  It  will  remind  you 
of  me  when  you  are  away." 

"Thank  you,  Rose.  I  shall  need  nothing  to 
keep  you  in  my  remembrance,  but  I  will  value 
it  for  your  sake." 

"I  hope  you  will  be  fortunate  and  fill  it 
very  soon,  Ben." 

So  the  two  parted  on  the  most  friendly 


H4  The    Store    Boy. 

terms,  and  the  next  day  Ben  started  for  New 
York  in  the  highest  of  spirits. 

After  purchasing  his  ticket,  he  gave  place 
to  Squire  Davenport,  who  also  called  for  a 
ticket  to  New  York.  Now,  it  so  happened  that 
the  squire  had  not  seen  Tom  since  the  inter- 
view of  the  latter  with  our  hero,  and  was  in 
ignorance  of  his  good  luck. 

"Are  you  going  to  New  York,  Benjamin?" 
he  asked,  in  surprise. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Isn't  it  rather  extravagant  for  one  in  your 
circumstances?" 

"Yes,  sir;  if  I  had  no  object  in  view." 

"Have  you  any  business  in  the  city?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  am  going  to  take  a  place." 

Squire  Davenport  was  still  more  surprised, 
and  asked  particulars.  These  Ben  readily 
gave,  for  he  was  quite  elated  by  his  good  for- 
tune. 

"Oh,  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  the  squire,  con- 
temptuously. "I  thought  you  might  have  se- 
cured a  position  in  some  business  house.  This 
lady  probably  wants  you  to  answer  the  door- 
bell and  clean  the  knives,  or  something  of  that 
sort." 

"I  am  sure  she  does  not,"  said  Ben,  indig- 
nant and  mortified. 

"You'll  find  I  am  right,"  said  the  squire, 
confidently.  "Young  man,  I  can't  congratu- 
late you  on  your  prospects.  You  would  have 


The    Store    Boy.  115 

done  as  well  to  stay  in  Pentonville  and  work 
on  my  wood  pile." 

"Whatever  work  I  may  do  in  New  York, 
I  shall  be  a  good  deal  better  paid  for  than 
here,"  retorted  Ben. 

Squire  Davenport  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  began  to  read  the  morning  paper.  To  do 
him  justice,  he  only  said  what  he  thought  when 
he  predicted  to  Ben  that  he  would  be  called 
upon  to  do  menial  work. 

"The  boy  won't  be  in  so  good  spirits  a  week 
Jience,"  he  thought.  "However,  that  is  not 
my  affair.  There  is  no  doubt  that  I  shall  get 
possession  of  his  mother's  house  when  the  three 
months  are  up,  and  I  don't  at  all  care  where 
he  and  his  mother  go.  If  they  leave  Penton- 
ville I  shall  be  very  well  satisfied.  I  have  no 
satisfaction  in  meeting  either  of  them,"  and 
the  squire  frowned,  as  if  some  unpleasant 
thought  had  crossed  his  mind. 

Nothing  of  note  passed  during  the  remain- 
der of  the  journey.  Ben  arrived  in  New  York, 
and  at  once  took,  a  conveyance  uptown,  and 
in  due  time  found  himself,  carpetbag  in  hand, 
on  the  front  steps  of  Mrs.  Hamilton's  house. 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  the  door  was  opened 
by  a  servant. 

"She's  out  shopping,"  answered  the  girl, 
looking  inquisitively  at  Ben's  carpetbag.  "Will 
you  leave  a  message  for  her?" 

"I  believe  I  am  expected,"  said  Ben,  feel- 


ii6  The    Store    Boy. 

ing  a  little  awkward.  "My  name  is  Benja- 
min Barclay." 

"Mrs.  Hamilton  didn't  say  anything  about 
expecting  any  boy,"  returned  the  servant.  "You 
can  come  in,  if  you  like,  and  I'll  call  Mrs. 
Hill." 

"I  suppose  that  is  the  housekeeper,"  thought 
Ben. 

"Very  well,"  he  answered.  "I  believe  I  will 
come  in,  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  wrote  to  me  to 
come." 

Ben  left  his  bag  in  the  front  hall,  and  with 
his  hat  in  his  hand,  followed  the  servant  into 
the  handsomely-furnished  drawing-room. 

"I  wish  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  been  here,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "The  girl  seems  to  look  at 
me  suspiciously.  I  hope  the  housekeeper 
knows  about  my  coming." 

Ben  sat  down  in  an  easy-chair  beside  a  mar- 
ble topped  center  table,  and  waited  for  fifteen 
minutes  before  any  one  appeared.  He  be- 
guiled the  time  by  looking  over  a  handsomely 
illustrated  book  of  views,  but  presently  the 
door  was  pushed  open  and  he  looked  up. 

The  newcomer  was  a  spare,  pale-faced  wom- 
an, with  a  querulous  expression,  who  stared 
coldly  at  our  hero.  It  was  clear  that  she  was 
not  glad  to  see  him.  "What  can  I  do  for  you, 
young  man?"  she  asked  in  a  repellent  tone. 

"What  a  disagreeable-looking  woman!" 
thought  Ben.  "I  am  sure  we  shall  never  be 
friends." 


The    Store    Boy.  117 

"Is  Mrs.  Hamilton  expected  in  soon?"  he 
asked. 

"I  really  cannot  say.  She  does  not  report 
to  me  how  long  she  expects  to  be  gone." 

"Didn't  she  speak  to  you  about  expecting 
me?"  asked  Ben,  feeling  decidedly  uncomfort- 
able. 

"Not  a  word !"  was  the  reply. 

"She  wrote  to  me  to  come  here,  but  per- 
haps she  did  not  expect  me  so  soon." 

"If  you  have  come  here  to  collect  a  bill, 
or  with  any  business  errand,  I  can  attend  to 
you.  I  am  Mrs.  Hamilton's  cousin." 

"Thank  you;  it  will  be  necessary  for  me  to 
see  Mrs.  Hamilton." 

"Then  you  may  as  well  call  in  the  after- 
noon, or  some  other  day." 

"That's  pretty  cool!"  thought  Ben.  "The 
woman  wants  to  get  me  out  of  the  house,  but 
I  propose  to  'hold  the  fort'  till  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton arrives." 

"I  thought  you  might  know  that  I  am  go- 
ing to  stay  here,"  said  Ben. 

"What !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hill,  in  genuine 
surprise. 

"Mrs.  Hamilton  has  offered  me  a  position, 
though  I  do  not  know  what  the  duties  are 
to  be,  and  I  am  going  to  make  my  home  here." 

"Really  this  is  too  much!"  said  the  pale- 
faced  lady,  sternly.  "Here,  Conrad!"  she 
called,  going  to  the  door. 

A  third  party  made  his  appearance  on  the 


u8  The    Store    Boy. 

scene,  a  boy  who  looked  so  much  like  Mrs. 
Hill  that  it  was  clear  she  was  his  mother.  He 
was  two  inches  taller  than  Ben,  but  looked 
pale  and  flabby. 

"What's  wanted,  ma?"  he  said,  staring  at 
Ben. 

"This  young  man  has  made  a  strange  mis- 
take. He  says  Mrs.  Hamilton  has  sent  for 
him  and  that  he  is  going  to  live  here." 

"He's  got  cheek,"  exclaimed  Conrad,  contin- 
uing to  stare  at  Ben. 

"Tell  him  that  he'd  better  go!" 

"You'd  better  go!"  said  the  boy,  like  a  par- 
rot. 

"Thank  you,"  returned  Ben,  provoked,  "but 
I  mean  to  stay." 

"Go  and  call  a  policeman,  Conrad,"  said 
Mrs.  Hill.  "We'll  see  what  he'll  have  to  say 
then." 


The    Store    Boy.  119 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

A     COOL     RECEPTION. 

"THIS  isn't  quite  the  reception  I  expected," 
thought  Ben.  He  was  provoked  with  the  dis- 
agreeable woman  who  persisted  in  regarding 
and  treating  him  as  an  intruder,  but  he  was 
not  in  the  least  nervous  or  alarmed.  He  knew 
that  things  would  come  right,  and  that  Mrs. 
Hill  and  her  promising  son  would  see  their 
mistake.  He  had  half  a  mind  to  let  Conrad 
call  a  policeman,  and  then  turn  the  tables 
upon  his  foes.  But  he  knew  that  this  would 
be  disagreeable  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  whose  feel- 
ings he  was  bound  to  consider. 

"Before  you  call  a  policeman,"  he  said, 
quietly,  "it  mav  be  well  for  you  to  read  this 
letter." 

As  he  spoke  he  handed  Mrs.  Hill  the  letter 
he  had  received  from  Mrs.  Hamilton. 

Mrs.  Hill  took  the  letter  suspiciously,  and 
glared  over  it.  As  she  read,  a  spot  of  red 
glowed  in  each  pallid  cheek,  and  she  bit  her 
lips  in  annoyance. 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  she  said,  slowly. 


120  The    Store    Boy. 

Ben  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  explain  what 
was  perfectly  intelligible.  He  saw  that  Mrs. 
Hill  didn't  want  to  understand  it. 

"What  is  it,  ma?"  asked  Conrad,  his  curi- 
osity aroused. 

"You  can  read  it  for  yourself,  Conrad,"  re- 
turned his  mother. 

"Is  he  coming  to  live  here?"  ejaculated  Con- 
rad, astonished,  indicating  Ben  with  a  jerk  of 
his  finger. 

"If  this  letter  is  genuine,"  said  Mrs.  Hill, 
with  a  significant  emphasis  on  the  last  word. 

"If  it  is  not,  Mrs.  Hamilton  will  be  sure  to 
tell  you  so,"  said  Ben,jrovoked. 

"Come  out,  Conrad ;  I  want  to  speak  to  you,'" 
said  his  mother. 

Without  ceremony,  they  left  Ben  in  the  par- 
lor alone,  and  withdrew  to  another  part  of  the 
house,  where  they  held  a  conference. 

"What  does  it  all  mean,  ma?"  asked  Conrad. 

"It  means  that  your  prospects  are  threat- 
ened, my  poor  boy.  Cousin  Hamilton,  who  is 
very  eccentric,  has  taken  a  fancy  to  this  boy, 
and  she  is  going  to  confer  favors  upon  him  at 
your  expense.  It  is  too  bad !" 

"I'd  like  to  break  his  head!"  said  Conrad, 
scowling. 

"It  won't  do,  Conrad,  to  fight  him  openly. 
We  must  do  what  we  can  in  an  underhand 
way  to  undermine  him  with  Cousin  Hamilton. 
She  ought  to  make  you  her  heir,  as  she  has  no 
children  of  her  own," 


The    Store    Boy.  121 

"I  don't  think  she  likes  me,"  said  the  boy. 
"She  only  gives  me  two  dollars  a  week  allow- 
ance, and  she  scolded  me  the  other  day  because 
she  met  me  in  the  hall  smoking  a  cigarette." 

"Be  sure  not  to  offend  her,  Conrad.  A 
great  deal  depends  on  it.  Two  dollars  ought 
to  answer  for  the  present.  When  you  are  a 
young  man,  you  may  be  in  very  different  cir- 
cumstances." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  grumbled  Con- 
rad. "I  may  get  two  dollars  a  week  then,  but 
what's  that?" 

"You  may  be  a  wealthy  man!"  said  his 
mother,  impressively.  "Cousin  Hamilton  is  not 
so  healthy  as  she  looks.  I  have  a  suspicion 
that  her  heart  is  affected.  She  might  die  sud- 
denly." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  said  Conrad, 
eagerly. 

"I  think  so.  What  you  must  try  to  do  is  to 
stand  well  with  her,  and  get  her  to  make  her 
will  in  your  favor.  I  will  attend  to  that,  if 
you  will  do  as  I  tell  you." 

"She  may  make  this  boy  her  heir,"  said 
Conrad,  discontentedly.  "Then  where  would 
I  be?" 

"She  won't  do  it,  if  I  can  help  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Hill,  with  an  emphatic  nod.  "I  will  manage 
to  make  trouble  between  them.  You  will 
always  be  my  first  interest,  my  dear  boy." 

She  made  a  motion  to  kiss  her  dear  boy,  but 
Conrad,  who  was  by  no  means  of  an  affection- 


122  The    Store    Boy. 

ate  disposition,  moved  his  head  suddenly,  with 
an  impatient  exclamation :  "Oh,  bother !" 

A  pained  look  came  over  the  mother's  face, 
for  she  loved  her  son,  unattractive  and  dis- 
agreeable as  he  was,  with  a  love  the  greater 
because  she  loved  no  one  else  in  the  world. 
Mother  and  son  were  selfish  alike,  but  the  son 
the  more  so,  for  he  had  not  a  spark  of  love  for 
any  human  being. 

"There's  the  bell !"  said  Mrs.  Hill,  suddenly. 
"I  do  believe  Cousin  Hamilton  has  come. 
Now  we  shall  find  out  whether  this  boy's  story 
is  true." 

"Let's  go  downstairs,  ma!  I  hope  it's  all  a 
mistake,  and  she'll  send  me  for  a  policeman." 

"I  am  afraid  the  boy's  story  is  correct.  But 
his  day  will  be  short." 

When  they  reached  the  hall,  Mrs.  Hamilton 
had  already  been  admitted  to  the  house. 

"There's  a  boy  in  the  drawing-room,  Mrs. 
Hamilton,"  said  Mrs.  Hill,  "who  says  he  is  to 
stay  here — that  you  sent  for  him." 

"Has  he  come  already?"  returned  Mrs. 
Hamilton.  "I  am  glad  of  it." 

"Then  you  did  send  for  him?" 

"Of  course.  Didn't  I  mention  it  to  you? 
I  hardly  expected  he  would  come  so  soon." 

She  opened  the  door  of  the  drawing-room, 
and  approached  Ben,  with  extended  hand  and 
a  pleasant  smile. 

"Welcome  to  New  York,  Ben,"  she  said.  "I 
hope  I  haven't  kept  you  waiting  long?" 


The    Store    Boy.  123 

"Not  very  long,"  answered  Ben,  shaking  her 
hand. 

"This  is  my  cousin,  Mrs.  Hill,  who  relieves 
me  of  part  of  my  housekeeping  care,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Hamilton,  "and  this  is  her  son 
Conrad.  Conrad,  this  is  a  companion  for  you, 
Benjamin  Barclay,  who  will  be  a  new  member 
of  our  small  family." 

"I  hope  you  are  well,  Conrad,"  said  Ben, 
with  a  smile,  to  the  boy  who  but  a  short  time 
before  was  going  for  a  policeman  to  put  him 
under  arrest. 

"I'm  all  right,"  said  Conrad,  ungraciously. 

"Really,  Cousin  Hamilton,  this  is  a  sur- 
prise," said  Mrs.  Hill.  "You  are  quite  kimd 
to  provide  Conrad  with  a  companion,  but  I 
don't  think  he  felt  the  need  of  any,  except  his 
mother — and  you." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  laughed.  She  saw  that 
neither  Mrs.  Hill  nor  Conrad  was  glad  to  see 
Ben,  and  this  was  only  what  she  expected,  and, 
indeed,  this  was  the  chief  reason  why  she  had 
omitted  to  mention  Ben's  expected  arrival. 

"You  give  me  too  much  credit,"  she  said, 
"if  you  think  I  invited  this  young  gentleman 
here  solely  as  a  companion  to  Conrad.  I  shall 
have  some  writing  and  accounts  for  him  to 
attend  to." 

"I  am  sure  Conrad  would  have  been  glad  to 
serve  you  in  that  way,  Cousin  Hamilton," 
said  Mrs.  Hill.  "I  am  sorry  you  did  not  give 
him  the  first  chance." 


124  The    Store    Boy. 

"Conrad  wouldn't  have  suited  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  bluntly. 

"Perhaps  I  may  not  be  competent,"  sug- 
gested Ben,  modestly. 

"We  can  tell  better  after  trying  you,"  said 
his  patroness.  "As  for  Conrad,  I  have  ob- 
tained a  position  for  him.  He  is  to  enter  the 
offices  of  Jones  &  Woodhull,  on  Pearl  Street, 
to-morrow.  You  will  take  an  early  breakfast, 
Conrad,  for  it  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  be 
at  the  office  at  eight  o'clock." 

"How  much  am  I  to  get?"  asked  Conrad. 

"Four  dollars  a  week.  I  shall  let  you  have 
all  this  in  lieu  of  the  weekly  allowance  I  pay 
you,  but  will  provide  you  with  clothing,  as 
heretofore,  so  that  this  will  keep  you  liberally 
supplied  with  pocket  money." 

Conrad's  brow  cleared.  He  was  lazy,  and 
did  not  enjoy  going  to  work,  but  the  increase 
of  his  allowance  would  be  satisfactory. 

"And  now,  Ben,  Mrs.  Hill  will  kindly  show 
you  your  room.  It  is  the  large  hall  bedroom 
on  the  third  floor.  When  you  have  unpacked 
your  valise,  and  got  to  feel  at  home,  come 
downstairs,  and  we  will  have  a  little  conver- 
sation upon  business.  You  will  find  me  in  the 
sitting-room,  on  the  next  floor." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Ben,  politely,  and  he  fol- 
lowed the  pallid  cousin  upstairs.  He  was 
shown  into  a  handsomely  furnished  room, 
bright  and  cheerful. 


The    Store    Boy.  125 

"This  is  a  very  pleasant  room,"  he  said. 

"You  won't  occupy  it  long!"  said  Mrs.  Hill 
to  herself.  "No  one  will  step  into  my  Con- 
rad's place,  if  I  can  help  it." 


126  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

ENTERING    UPON    HIS    DUTIES. 

WHEN  Ben  had  taken  out  his  clothing  from 
his  valise  and  put  it  away  in  the  drawers  of 
the  handsome  bureau  which  formed  a  part  of 
the  furniture  in  his  room  he  went  downstairs, 
and  found  his  patroness  in  a  cozy  sitting-room 
on  the  second  floor.  It  was  furnished,  Ben 
could  not  help  thinking,  more  as  if  it  were  de- 
signed for  a  gentleman  than  a  lady.  In  one 
corner  was  a  library  table,  with  writing  ma- 
terials, books  and  papers  upon  it,  and  an  array 
of  drawers  on  either  side  of  the  central  part. 

"Come  right  in,  Ben,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
who  was  seated  at  the  table.  "We  will  talk 
of  business." 

This  Ben  wras  quite  willing  to  do.  He  was 
anxious  to  know  what  were  to  be  his  duties, 
that  he  might  judge  whether  he  was  competent 
to  discharge  them. 

"Let  me  tell  you,  to  begin  with,"  said  his 
patroness,  "that  I  am  possessed  of  consider- 
able wealth,  as,  indeed,  you  may  have  judged 
by  my  way  of  living.  I  have  no  children,  un- 
fortunately, and,  being  unwilling,  selfishly,  to 


The    Store    Boy.  127 

devote  my  entire  means  to  my  own  use  exclu- 
sively, I  try  to  help  others  in  a  way  that  I 
think  most  suitable.  Mrs.  Hill,  who  acts  as 
my  housekeeper,  is  a  cousin,  who  made  a  poor 
marriage,  and  was  left  penniless.  I  have 
given  a  home  to  her  and  her  son." 

"I  don't  think  Mrs.  Hill  likes  my  being 
here,"  says  Ben. 

"You  are,  no  doubt,  right.  She  is  foolish 
enough  to  be  jealous,  because  I  do  not  bestow 
all  my  favors  upon  her." 

"I  think  she  will  look  upon  me  as  the  rival 
of  her  son." 

"I  expected  she  would.  Perhaps  she  will 
learn,  after  a  while,  that  I  can  be  a  friend  to 
you  and  him  both,  though,  I  am  free  to  admit, 
I  have  never  been  able  to  take  any  fancy  to 
Conrad,  nor,  indeed,  was  his  mother  a  favorite 
with  me.  But  for  her  needy  circumstances, 
she  is,  perhaps,  the  last  of  my  relatives  that  I 
would  invite  to  become  a  member  of  my  house- 
hold. However,  to  come  to  business:  My 
money  is  invested  in  various  ways.  Besides 
the  ordinary  forms  of  investment,  stocks, 
bonds  and  mortgages,  I  have  set  up  two  or 
three  young  men,  whom  I  thought  worthy,  in 
business,  and  require  them  to  send  in  monthly 
statements  of  their  business  to  me.  You  see, 
therefore,  that  I  have  more  or  less  to  do  with 
accounts.  I  never  had  much  taste  for  figures, 
and  it  struck  me  that  I  might  relieve  myself 
of  considerable  drudgery  if  I  could  obtain 


ia8  The    Store    Boy. 

your  assistance,  under  my  supervision,  of 
course.  I  hope  you  have  a  taste  for  figures?" 

"Arithmetic  and  algebra  are  my  favorite 
studies,"  said  Ben,  promptly. 

"I  am  glad  of  it.  Of  course,  I  did  not  know 
that,  but  had  you  not  been  well  versed  in  ac- 
counts, I  meant  to  send  you  to  a  commercial 
school  to  qualify  you  for  the  duties  I  wished 
to  impose  upon  you." 

"I  don't  think  it  will  be  necessary,"  an- 
swered Ben.  "I  have  taken  lessons  in  book- 
keeping at  home,  and,  though  it  seems  like 
boasting,  I  was  better  in  mathematics  than 
any  of  my  schoolfellows." 

"I  am  so  glad  to  hear  that.  Can  you  write 
well?" 

"Shall  I  write  something  for  you?" 

"Do  so." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  vacated  her  place,  and  Ben, 
sitting  at  the  desk,  wrote  two  or  three  copies 
from  remembrance. 

"Very  well,  indeed!"  said  his  patroness, 
approvingly.  "I  see  that  in  engaging  you  I 
have  made  no  mistake." 

Ben's  cheek  flushed  with,  pleasure,  and  he 
was  eager  to  enter  upon  his  new  duties.  But 
he  could  not  help  wondering  why  he  had  been 
selected  when  Conrad  was  already  in  the 
house,  and  unemployed.  He  ventured  to  say : 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  why  you  did 
not  employ  Conrad,  instead  of  sending  for 
me?" 


The    Store    Boy.  129 

"There  are  two  good  and  sufficient  reasons : 
Conrad  is  not  competent  for  such  an  office; 
and,  secondly,  I  should  not  like  to  have  the 
boy  about  me  as  much  as  he  would  need  to  be. 
I  have  obtained  for  him  a  position  out  of  the 
house.  One  question  remains  to  be  considered : 
How  much  wages  do  you  expect?" 

"I  would  prefer  to  leave  that  to  you,  Mrs. 
Hamilton.  I  cannot  expect  high  pay." 

"Will  ten  dollars  a  week  be  adequate?" 

"I  can't  earn  as  much  money  as  that,"  said 
Ben,  in  surprise. 

"Perhaps  not,  and  yet  I  am  not  sure.  If 
you  suit  me,  it  will  be  worth  my  while  to  pay 
you  as  much." 

"But  Conrad  will  only  receive  four  dollars  a 
week.  Won't  he  be  angry?" 

"Conrad  is  not  called  upon  to  support  his 
mother,  as  I  understand  you  are." 

"You  are  very  kind  to  think  of  that,  Mrs. 
Hamilton." 

"I  want  to  be  kind  to  you,  Ben,"  said  his 
patroness,  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

"When  shall  I  commence  my  duties?" 

"Nowr.  You  will  copy  this  statement  into 
the  ledger  you  see  here.  Before  doing  so,  will 
you  look  over  and  verify  the  figures?" 

Ben  was  soon  hard  at  work.  He  was  inter 
ested  in  his  work,  and  the  time  slipped  fast. 
After  an  hour  and  a  half  had  passed,  Mrs. 
Hamilton  said: 

"It  is  about  time  for  lunch,  and  I  think 


130  The    Store    Boy. 

there  will  be  no  more  to  do  to-day.  Are  you 
familiar  with  New  York?" 

"No;  I  have  spent  very  little  time  in  the 
city." 

"You  will,  no  doubt,,  like  to  look  about.  We 
have  dinner  at  six  sharp.  You  will  be  on 
time?" 

"I  will  be  sure  to  be  here." 

"That  reminds  me — have  you  a  watch?" 

Ben  shook  his  head. 

"I  thought  it  might  be  so.  I  have  a  good 
silver  watch,  which  I  have  no  occasion  for." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  left  the  room,  and  quickly 
returned  with  a  neat  silver  hunting-case 
watch,  with  a  gilt  chain. 

"This  is  yours,  Ben,"  she  said,  "if  you  like 
it." 

"Do  you  give  it  to  me?"  asked  Ben,  joyously. 
He  had  only  expected  that  it  would  be  loaned 
to  him. 

"Yes,  I  give  it  to  you,  and  I  hope  you  will 
find  it  useful." 

"How  can  I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  for 
your  kindness?" 

"You  are  more  grateful  than  Conrad.  I 
gave  him  one  just  like  it,  and  he  was  evidently 
dissatisfied  because  it  was  not  gold.  When 
you  are  older,  the  gold  watch  may  come." 

"I  am  very  well  pleased  with  the  silver 
watch,  for  I  have  long  wanted  one,  but  did  not 
see  any  way  of  obtaining  it." 

"You  are  wise  in  having  moderate  desires, 


The    Store    Boy.  131 

Ben.  But  there  goes  the  lunch  bell.  You 
may  want  to  wash  your  hands.  When  you 
have  done  so,  come  down  to  the  dining-room, 
in  the  rear  of  the  drawing-room." 

Mrs.  Hill  and  Conrad  were  already  seated 
at  the  table  when  Ben  descended. 

"Take  a  seat  opposite  Conrad,  Ben,"  said 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  who  was  sitting  at  one  end  of 
the  table. 

The  lunch  was  plain  but  substantial,  and 
Ben,  who  had  taken  an  early  breakfast,  en- 
joyed it. 

"I  suppose  we  shall  not  have  Conrad  at 
lunch  to-morrow?"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton.  "He 
will  be  at  the  store." 

Conrad  made  a  grimace.  He  would  have 
enjoyed  his  freedom  better. 

"I  won't  have  much  of  my  four  dollars  left 
if  I  have  to  pay  for  lunch,"  he  said,  in  a  surly 
tone. 

"You  shall  have  a  reasonable  allowance  for 
that  purpose." 

"I  suppose  Mr.  Barclay  will  lunch  at 
home?"  said  Mrs.  Hill. 

"Certainly,  since  his  work  will  be  here.  He 
is  to  be  my  home  clerk,  and  will  keep  my 
accounts." 

"You  needn't  have  gone  out  of  the  house  for 
a  clerk,  Cousin  Hamilton.  I  am  sure  Conrad 
would  have  been  glad  of  the  work." 

"It  will  be  better  for  Conrad  to  learn  busi- 


132  The    Store    Boy. 

ness  in  a  larger  establishment,"  said  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  quietly. 

This  was  a  new  way  of  looking  at  it,  and 
helped  to  reconcile  Mrs.  Hill  to  an  arrange- 
ment which  at  first  had  disappointed  her. 

"Have  you  any  engagement  this  afternoon, 
Conrad?"  asked  Mrs.  Hamilton.  "Ben  will 
have  nothing  to  do,  and  you  could  show  him 
the  city." 

"I've  got  an  engagement  with  a  fellow," 
said  Conrad,  hastily. 

"I  can  find  my  way  about  alone,  thank  you," 
said  Ben.  "I  won't  trouble  Conrad." 

"Very  well.  This  evening,  however,  Ben,  I 
think  you  may  enjoy  going  to  the  theatre. 
Conrad  can  accompany  you,  unless  he  has  an- 
other engagement." 

"I'll  go  with  him,"  said  Conrad,  more  gra- 
ciously, for  he  was  fond  of  amusements. 

"Then  we  will  all  meet  at  dinner,  and  you 
two  young  gentlemen  can  leave  in  good  time 
for  the  theatre." 


The   Store   Boy.  133 


CHAPTER    XXL 

AT     THE     THEATRE. 

AFTER  dinner,  Ben  and  Conrad  started  to 
walk  to  the  theatre.  The  distance  was  about 
a  mile,  but  in  the  city  there  is  so  much  always 
to  be  seen  that  one  does  not  think  of  distance. 

Conrad,  who  was  very  curious  to  ascertain 
Ben's  status  in  the  household,  lost  no  time  in 
making  inquiries. 

"What  does  my  aunt  find  for  you  to  do?"  he 
asked. 

It  may  be  remarked,  by  the  way,  that  no 
such  relationship  ever  existed  between  them, 
but  Mrs.  Hill  and  her  son  thought  it  politic 
to  make  the  relationship  seem  as  close  as  pos- 
sible, as  it  would,  perhaps,  increase  their  ap- 
parent claim  upon  their  rich  relative. 

Ben  answered  the  question. 

"You'll  have  a  stupid  time,"  said  Conrad. 
"All  the  same,  she  ought  to  have  given  the 
place  to  me.  How  much  does  she  pay  you?" 

Ben  hesitated,  for  he  knew  that  his  answer 
would  make  his  companion  discontented. 


134  The    Store    Boy. 

"I  am  not  sure  whether  I  am  at  liberty  to 
tell,"  he  answered,  with  hesitation. 

"There  isn't  any  secret  about  it,  is  there?" 
said  Conrad,  sharply. 

"No,  I  suppose  not.  I  am  to  receive  ten  dol- 
lars a  week." 

"Ten  dollars  a  week!"  ejaculated  Conrad, 
stopping  short  in  the  street. 

"Yes." 

"And  I  get  but  four !     That's  a  shame !" 

"I  shall  really  have  no  more  than  you,  Con- 
rad. I  have  a  mother  to  provide  for,  and  I 
shall  send  home  six  dollars  a  week  regularly." 

"That  doesn't  make  any  difference!"  ex- 
claimed Conrad,  in  excitement.  "It's  awfully 
mean  of  aunt  to  treat  you  so  much  better  than 
she  does  me." 

"You  mustn't  say  that  to  me,"  said  Ben. 
"She  has  been  kind  to  us  both,  and  I  don't 
like  to  hear  anything  said  against  her." 

"You're  not  going  to  tell  her?"  said  Con- 
rad, suspiciously. 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Ben,  indignantly. 
"What  do  you  take  me  for?" 

"Some  fellows  would,  to  set  Aunt  Hamilton 
against  me." 

"I  am  not  so  mean  as  that." 

"I  am  glad  I  can  depend  on  you.  You  see, 
the  old  lady  is  awfully  rich — doesn't  know 
what  to  do  with  her  money — and  as  she  has  no 
son,  or  anybody  nearer  than  me  and  mother, 
it's  natural  we  should  inherit  her  money." 


The    Store    Boy.  135 

"I  hope  she  will  enjoy  it  herself  for  a  good 
many  years." 

"Oh,  she's  getting  old!"  said  Conrad,  care- 
lessly. "She  can't  expect  to  live  forever.  It 
wouldn't  be  fair  for  young  people  if  their 
parents  lived  to  a  hundred.  Now,  would  it?" 

"I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  my  mother 
live  to  a  hundred,  if  she  could  enjoy  life,"  said 
Ben,  disgusted  with  his  companion's  sordid 
selfishness. 

"Your  mother  hasn't  got  any  money,  and 
that  makes  a  difference." 

Ben  had  a  reply,  but  he  reflected  it  would  be 
of  little  use  to  argue  with  one  who  took  such 
widely  different  views  as  Conrad.  Moreover, 
they  were  already  within  a  block  or  two  of  the 
theatre. 

The  best  seats  were  priced  at  a  dollar  and  a 
half,  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  given  Conrad 
three  dollars  to  purchase  one  for  Ben  and  one 
for  himself. 

"It  seems  an  awful  price  to  pay  a  dollar  and 
a  half  for  a  seat,"  said  Conrad.  "Suppose  we 
go  up  into  the  gallery,  where  the  seats  are  only 
fifty  cents?" 

"I  think  Mrs.  Hamilton  meant  us  to  take 
higher-priced  seats." 

"She  won't  care,  or  know,  unless  we  choose 
to  tell  her." 

"Then  you  don't  propose  to  give  her  back 
the  difference?" 

"You  don't  take  me  for  a  fool,  do  you?    I'll 


136  The    Store    Boy. 

tell  you  what  I'll  do.  If  you  don't  mind  a 
fifty-cent  seat,  I'll  give  you  twenty-five  cents 
out  of  this  money." 

Ben  could  hardly  believe  Conrad  was  in 
earnest  in  this  exhibition  of  meanness. 

"Then,"  said  he,  "you  would  clear  seventy- 
five  cents  on  my  seat  and  a  dollar  on  your 
own?" 

"You  can  see  almost  as  well  in  the  gallery," 
said  Conrad.  "I'll  give  you  fifty  cents,  if  you 
insist  upon  it." 

"I  insist  upon  having  my  share  of  the  money 
spent  for  a  seat,"  said  Ben,  contemptuously. 
"You  can  sit  where  you  please,  of  course." 

"You  ain't  very  obliging,"  said  Conrad,  sul- 
lenly. "I  need  the  money,  and  that's  what 
made  me  propose  it.  As  you've  made  so  much 
fuss  about  it,  we'll  take  orchestra  seats." 

This  he  did,  though  unwillingly. 

"I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  like  that  boy," 
thought  Ben.  "He's  a  little  too  mean." 

They  both  enjoyed  the  play,  Ben  perhaps 
with  the  most  zest,  for  he  had  never  before 
attended  a  city  theatre.  At  eleven  o'clock  the 
curtain  fell,  and  they  went  out. 

"Come,  Ben,"  said  Conrad,  "you  might  treat 
a  fellow  to  soda  water." 

"I  will,"  answered  Ben.  "Where  shall  we 
go?" 

"Just  opposite.  They've  got  fine  soda  water 
across  the  street." 


The    Store    Boy.  137 

The  boys  drank  their  soda  water,  and 
started  to  go  home. 

"Suppose  we  go  in  somewhere  and  have  a 
game  of  billiards?"  suggested  Conrad. 

"I  don't  play,"  answered  Ben. 

"I'll  teach  you ;  come  along,"  urged  Conrad. 

"It  is  getting  late,  and  I  would  rather  not." 

"I  suppose  you  go  to  roost  with  the  chickens 
in  the  country?"  sneered  Conrad.  "You'll 
learn  better  in  the  city — if  you  stay." 

"There  is  another  reason,"  continued  Ben. 
"I  suppose  it  costs  money  to  play  billiards, 
and  I  have  none  to  spare." 

"Only  twenty-five  cents  a  game." 

"It  will  be  cheaper  to  go  to  bed." 

"You  won't  do  anything  a  feller  wants  you 
to,"  grumbled  Conrad.  "You  needn't  be  so 
mean,  when  you  are  getting  ten  dollars  a 
week." 

"I  have  plenty  to  do  with  my  money,  and 
I  want  to  save  up  something  every  week." 

On  the  whole,  the  boys  did  not  take  to  each 
other.  They  took  very  different  views  of  life 
and  duty,  and  there  seemed  to  be  small  pros- 
pect of  their  becoming  intimate  friends. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  had  gone  to  bed  when  they 
returned,  but  Mrs.  Hill  was  up  watching  for 
her  son.  She  was  a  cold,  disagreeable  woman, 
but  she  was  devoted  to  her  boy. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  come  home  so  soon," 
she  said. 


138  The    Store    Boy. 

"I  wanted  to  play  a  game  of  billiards,  but 
Ben  wouldn't,"  grumbled  Conrad. 

"If  you  had  done  so,  I  should  have  had  to 
sit  up  later  for  you,  Conrad." 

"There  was  no  use  in  sitting  up  for  me.  I 
ain't  a  baby,"  responded  Conrad,  ungratefully. 

"You  know  I  can't  sleep  when  I  know  you 
are  out,  Conrad." 

"Then  you're  very  foolish.     Isn't  she,  Ben?" 

"My  mother  would  feel  just  so,"  answered 
Ben. 

Mrs.  Hill  regarded  him  almost  kindly.  He 
had  done  her  a  good  turn  in  bringing  her  son 
home  in  good  season. 

"She  may  be  a  disagreeable  woman," 
thought  Ben,  "but  she  is  good  to  Conrad,"  and 
this  made  him  regard  the  housekeeper  with 
more  favor. 


The    Store    Boy.  139 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

A    MYSTERIOUS    LETTER. 

FROM  time  to  time,  Mrs.  Hamilton  sent  Ben 
on  errands  to  different  parts  of  the  city, 
chiefly  to  those  who  had  been  started  in  busi- 
ness with  capital  which  she  had  supplied. 
One  afternoon,  he  was  sent  to  a  tailor  on  Sixth 
Avenue  with  a  note,  the  contents  of  which 
were  unknown  to  him. 

"You  may  wait  for  an  answer,"  said  Mrs. 
Hamilton. 

He  readily  found  the  tailor's  shop,  and 
called  for  Charles  Eoberts,  the  proprietor. 

The  latter  read  the  note,  and  said,  in  a  busi- 
nesslike tone : 

"Come  to  the  back  part  of  the  shop,  and  I 
will  show  you  some  goods." 

Ben  regarded  him  in  surprise. 

"Isn't  there  some  mistake?"  he  said.  "I 
didn't  know  I  was  to  look  at  any  goods." 

"As  we  are  to  make  a  suit  for  you,  I  sup- 
posed you  would  have  some  choice  in  the  mat- 
ter," returned  the  tailor,  equally  surprised. 

"May  I  look  at  the  letter?"  asked  Ben. 

The  tailor  put  it  into  his  hands. 


140  The    Store    Boy. 

It  ran  thus : 

"MR.  ROBERTS  :  You  will  make  a  suit  for 
the  bearer,  from  any  goods  he  may  select,  and 
charge  to  the  account  of 

"HELEN  HAMILTON." 

"Mrs.  Hamilton  did  not  tell  me  what  was  in 
the  note,"  said  Ben,  smiling.  "She  is  very 
kind." 

Ben  allowed  himself  to  be  guided  by  the 
tailor,  and  the  result  was  a  handsome  suit, 
which  was  sent  home  in  due  time,  and  imme- 
diately attracted  the  attention  of  Conrad. 
Ben  had  privately  thanked  his  patroness,  but 
had  felt  under  no  obligation  to  tell  Cbnrad. 

"Seems  to  me  you  are  getting  extravagant !" 
said  Conrad,  enviously. 

"I  don't  know  but  I  am,"  answered  Ben, 
good-naturedly. 

"How  much  did  you  pay  for  it?" 

"The  price  was  thirty-five  dollars." 

"That's  too  much  for  a  boy  in  your  circum- 
stances to  pay." 

"I  think  so  myself,  but  I  shall  make  it  last 
a  long  time." 

"I  mean  to  make  Aunt  Hamilton  buy  me  a 
new  suit,"  grumbled  Conrad. 

"I  have  no  objection,  I  am  sure,"  said  Ben. 

"I  didn't  ask  your  permission,"  said  Con- 
rad, rudely. 

"I  wonder  what  he  would  say  if  he  knew 


The    Store    Boy.  141 

that  Mrs.  Hamilton  paid  for  my  suit?"  Ben 
said  to  himself.  He  wisely  decided  to  keep 
the  matter  secret,  as  he  knew  that  Conrad 
would  be  provoked  to  hear  of  this  new  proof  of 
his  relative's  partiality  for  the  boy  whom  he 
regarded  as  a  rival. 

Conrad  lost  no  time  in  preferring  his  re- 
quest to  Mrs.  Hamilton  for  a  new  suit. 

"I  bought  you  a  suit  two  months  since," 
said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  quietly.  "Why  do  you 
come  to  me  for  another  so  soon?" 

"Ben  has  a  new  suit,"  answered  Conrad,  a 
little  confused. 

"I  don't  know  that  that  has  anything  to  do 
with  you.  However,  I  will  ask  Ben  when  he 
had  his  last  new  suit." 

Ben,  who  was  present,  replied : 

"It  was  last  November." 

"Nearly  a  year  since.  I  will  take  care  that 
you  are  supplied  with  new  suits  as  often  as 
Ben." 

Conrad  retired  from  the  presence  of  his  rela- 
tive much  disgusted.  He  did  not  know,  but 
suspected,  that  Ben  wa,s  indebted  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton  for  his  new  suit,  and  although  this 
did  not  interfere  with  a  liberal  provision  for 
him,  he  felt  unwilling  that  any  one  beside  him- 
self should  bask  in  the  favor  of  his  rich  rela- 
tive. He  made  a  discovery  that  troubled  him 
about  this  time. 

"Let  me  see  your  watch,  Ben,"  he  said,  one 
day. 


142  The    Store    Boy. 

Ben  took  out  the  watch  and  placed  it  in  his 
hand. 

"It's  just  like  mine,"  said  Conrad,  after  a 
critical  examination. 

"Is  it?" 

"Yes;  don't  you  see?  Where  did  you  get 
it?" 

"It  was  a  gift,"  answered  Ben. 

"From  my  aunt?" 

"It  was  given  me  by  Mrs.  Hamilton." 

"She  seems  to  be  very  kind  to  you,"  sneered 
Conrad,  with  a  scowl. 

"She  is,  indeed!"  answered  Ben,  earnestly. 

"You've  played  your  cards  well,"  said  Con- 
rad, coarsely. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  returned  Ben, 
coldly. 

"I  mean  that,  knowing  her  to  be  rich,  you 
have  done  well  to  get  on  the  blind  side  of  her." 

"I  can't  accept  the  compliment,  if  you  mean 
it  as  such.  I  don't  think  Mrs.  Hamilton  has 
any  blind  side,  and  the  only  way  in  which  I 
intend  to  commend  myself  to  her  favor  is  to 
be  faithful  to  her  interests." 

"Oh,  you're  mighty  innocent;  but,  all  the 
same,  you  know  how  to  feather  vour  own 
nest."  * 

"In  a  good  sense,  I  hope  I  do.  I  don't  sup- 
pose any  one  else  will  take  the  trouble  to 
feather  it  for  me.  I  think  honesty  and  fidelity 
are  good  policy,  don't  you?" 


The    Store    Boy.  143 

"I  don't  pretend  to  be  an  angel/'  answered 
Conrad,  sullenly. 

"Nor  I,"  said  Ben,  laughing. 

Some  days  later,  Conrad  came  to  Ben  one 
day,  looking  more  cordial  than  usual. 

"Ben,"  he  said,  "I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of 
you." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Will  you  grant  it?" 

"I  want  to  know  first  what  it  is." 

"Lend  me  five  dollars?" 

Ben  stared  at  Conrad  in  surprise.  He  had 
just  that  amount,  after  sending  home  money 
to  his  mother,  but  he  intended  that  afternoon 
to  deposit  three  dollars  out  of  it  in  the  savings 
bank,  feeling  that  he  ought  to  be  laying  up 
money  while  he  was  so  favorably  situated. 

"How  do  you  happen  to  be  short  of  money?" 
he  asked. 

"That  doesn't  need  telling.  I  have  only  four 
dollars  a  week  pocket  money,  and  I  am 
pinched  all  the  time." 

"Then,  supposing  I  lent  you  the  money,  how 
could  you  manage  to  pay  me  back  out  of  this 
small  allowance?" 

"Oh,  I  expect  to  get  some  money  in  another 
way,  but  I  can't,  unless  you  lend  me  the 
money." 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  how?" 
"Why,  the  fact  is,  a  fellow  I  know — that  is, 
I  have  heard  of  him — has  just  drawn  a  prize  of 


144  The    Store    Boy. 

a  thousand  dollars  in  a  Havana  lottery.     All 
he  paid  for  his  ticket  was  five  dollars." 

"And  is  this  the  way  you  expect  to  make 
some  money?" 

"Yes;  I  am  almost  sure  of  winning." 

"Suppose  you  don't?" 

"Oh,  what's  the  use  of  looking  at  the  dark 
side?" 

"You  are  not  so  sensible  as  I  thought,  Con- 
rad," said  Ben.  "At  least  a  hundred  draw  a 
blank  to  one  who  draws  a  small  prize,  and  the 
chances  are  a  hundred  to  one  against  you." 

"Then  you  won't  lend  me  the  money?"  said 
Conrad,  angrily. 

"I  would  rather  not." 

"Then  you're  a  mean  fellow !" 

"Thank  you  for  your  good  opinion,  but  I 
won't  change  my  determination." 

"You  get  ten  dollars  a  week?" 

"I  shall  not  spend  two  dollars  a  week  on  my 
own  amusement,  or  for  my  own  purposes." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  rest, 
then?" 

"Part  I  shall  send  to  my  mother;  part  I 
mean  to  put  in  some  savings  bank." 

"You  mean  to  be  a  miser,  then?" 

"If  to  save  money  makes  one  a  miser,  then 
I  shall  be  one." 

Conrad  left  the  room  in  an  angry  mood. 
He  was  one  with  whom  prosperity  didn't  agree. 
Whatever  his  allowance  might  be,  he  wished 
to  spend  more.  Looking  upon  himself  as  Mrs. 


The    Store    Boy.  145 

Hamilton's  heir,  he  could  not  understand  the 
need  or  expediency  of  saving  money.  He  was 
not  wholly  to  blame  for  this,  as  his  mother  en- 
couraged him  in  hopes  which  had  no  basis  ex- 
cept in  his  own  and  her  wishes. 

Not  quite  three  weeks  after  Ben  had  become 
established  in  his  new  home,  he  received  a  let- 
ter which  mystified  and  excited  him. 

It  ran  thus : 

"If  you  will  come  at  nine  o'clock  this  eve- 
ning to  No.  —  West  Thirty-first  Street,  and 
call  for  me,  you  will  hear  something  to  your 
advantage.  JAMES  BARNES/' 

"It  may  be  something  relating  to  my  father's 
affairs,"  thought  Ben.  "I  will  go." 


146  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTEK    XXIII. 

BEN'S  VISIT  TO  THIRTY-FIRST  STREET. 

BEN'S  evenings  being  unoccupied,  he  had  no 
difficulty  in  meeting  the  appointment  made 
for  him.  He  was  afraid  Conrad  might  ask 
him  to  accompany  him  somewhere,  and  thus 
involve  the  necessity  of  an  explanation,  which 
he  did  not  care  to  give  until  he  had  himself 
found  out  why  he  had  been  summoned. 

The  address  given  by  James  Barnes  was 
easy  to  find.  Ben  found  himself  standing  be- 
fore a  brick  building  of  no  uncommon  exterior. 
The  second  floor  seemed  to  be  lighted  up;  the 
windows  were  hung  with  crimson  curtains, 
which  shut  out  a  view  of  what  was  transpiring 
within. 

Ben  rang  the  bell.  The  door  was  opened 
by  a  colored  servant,  who  looked  at  the  boy 
inquiringly. 

"Is  Mr.  Barnes  within?"  asked  Ben. 

"I  don't  know  the  gentleman,"  was  the 
answer. 

"He  sent  me  a  letter,  asking  me  to  meet  him 
here  at  nine  o'clock." 

"Then  I  guess  it's  all  right.  Are  yon  a  tele- 
graph boy?" 


The    Store    Boy.  147 

"No,"  answered  Ben,  in  surprise. 

"I  reckon  it's  all  right/'  said  the  negro 
rather  to  himself  than  to  Ben.  "Come  up- 
stairs." 

Ben  followed  his  guide,  and  at  the  first 
landing  a  door  was  thrown  open.  Mechanic- 
ally, Ben  followed  the  servant  into  the  room, 
but  he  had  not  made  half  a  dozen  steps  when 
he  looked  around  in  surprise  and  bewilder- 
ment. Novice  as  he  was,  a  glance  satisfied 
him  that  he  was  in  a  gambling  house.  The 
double  room  was  covered  with  a  soft,  thick 
carpet,  chandeliers  depended  from  the  ceiling, 
frequent  mirrors  reflecting  the  brilliant  lights 
enlarged  the  apparent  size  of  the  apartment, 
and  a  showy  bar  at  one  end  of  the  room  held 
forth  an  alluring  invitation  which  most  failed 
to  resist.  Around  tables  were  congregated 
men,  young  and  old,  each  with  an  intent  look, 
watching  the  varying  chances  of  fortune. 

"I'll  inquire  if  Mr.  Barnes  is  here,"  said 
Peter,  the  colored  servant. 

Ben  stood  uneasily  looking  at  the  scene  till 
Peter  came  back. 

"Must  be  some  mistake,"  he  said.  "There's 
no  gen'leman  of  the  name  of  Barnes  here." 

"It's  strange,"  said  Ben,  perplexed. 

He  turned  to  go  out,  but  was  interrupted. 
A  man  with  a  sinister  expression,  and  the 
muscle  of  a  prize  fighter,  walked  up  to  him  and 
said,  with  a  scowl : 

"What  brings  you  here,  kid?" 


148  The    Store    Boy. 

"I  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Barnes,  ap- 
pointing to  meet  me  here." 

"I  believe  you're  lying.  No  such  man  comes 
here." 

"I  never  lie,"-  exclaimed  Ben,  indignantly. 

"Have  you  got  that  letter  about  you?"  asked 
the  man,  suspiciously. 

Ben  felt  in  his  pocket  for  the  letter,  but  felt 
in  vain. 

"I  think  I  must  have  left  it  at  home,"  he 
said,  nervously. 

The  man's  face  darkened. 

"I  believe  you  come  here  as  a  spy,"  he  said. 

"Then  you  are  mistaken!"  said  Ben,  looking 
him  fearlessly  in  the  face. 

"I  hope  so,  for  your  sake.  Do  you  know 
what  kind  of  a  place  this  is?" 

"I  suppose  it  is  a  gambling  house,"  Ben  an- 
swered without  hesitation. 

"Did  you  know  this  before  you  came  here?" 

"I  had  not  the  least  idea  of  it." 

The  man  regarded  him  suspiciously,  but  no 
one  could  look  into  Ben's  honest  face  and 
doubt  his  word. 

"At  any  rate,  you  have  found  it  out.  Do 
you  mean  to  blab?" 

"No;  that  is  no  business  of  mine." 

"Then  you  can  go,  but  take  care  that  you 
never  come  here  again." 

"I  certainly  never  will." 

"Give  me  your  name  and  address." 

"Why  do  you  want  it?" 


The    Store    Boy.  149 

"Because,  if  you  break  your  word,  you  will 
be  tracked  and  punished." 

"I  have  no  fear,"  answered  Ben,  and  he  gave 
his  name  and  address. 

" Never  admit  this  boy  again,  Peter,"  said 
the  man  with  whom  Ben  had  been  conversing ; 
"neither  this  boy,  nor  any  other,  except  a  tele- 
graph boy." 

"All  right,  sah." 

A  minute  later,  Ben  found  himself  on  the 
street,  very  much  perplexed  by  the  events  of 
the  evening.  Who  could  have  invited  him  to 
a  gambling  house,  and  with  what  object  in 
view?  Moreover,  why  had  not  James  Barnes 
kept  the  appointment  he  had  himself  made? 
These  were  questions  which  Ben  might  have 
been  better  able  to  answer  if  he  could  have 
seen,  just  around  the  corner,  the  triumphant 
look  of  one  who  was  stealthily  watching  him. 

This  person  was  Conrad  Hill,  who  took  care 
to  vacate  his  position  before  Ben  had  reached 
the  place  where  he  was  standing. 

"So  far,  so  good!"  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"Master  Ben  has  been  seen  coming  out  of  a 
gambling  house.  That  won't  be  likely  to  rec- 
ommend him  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and  she  shall 
know  it  before  long." 

Ben  could  not  understand  what  had  become 
of  the  note  summoning  him  to  the  gambling 
house.  In  fact,  he  had  dislodged  it  from  the 
vest  pocket  in  which  he  thrust  it,  and  it  had 
fallen  upon  the  carpet  near  the  desk  in  what 


150  The    Store    Boy. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  called  her  "office."  Having  oc- 
casion to  enter  the  room  in  the  evening,  his 
patroness  saw  it  on  the  carpet,  picked  it  up, 
and  read  it,  not  without  surprise. 

"This  is  a  strange  note  for  Ben  to  receive," 
she  said  to  herself.  "I  wonder  what  it 
means?" 

Of  course,  she  had  no  idea  of  the  character 
of  the  place  indicated,  but  was  inclined  to  hope 
that  some  good  luck  was  really  in  store  for  her 
young  secretary. 

"He  will  be  likely  to  tell  me  sooner  or  later," 
she  said  to  herself.  "I  will  wait  patiently, 
and  let  him  choose  his  own  time.  Meanwhile, 
I  will  keep  the  note." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  did  not  see  Ben  till  the  next 
morning.  Then  he  looked  thoughtful,  but 
said  nothing.  He  was  puzzling  himself  over 
what  had  happened.  He  hardly  knew  whether 
to  conclude  that  the  whole  thing  was  a  trick, 
or  that  the  note  was  written  in  good  faith. 

"I  don't  understand  why  the  writer  should 
have  appointed  to  meet  me  at  such  a  place," 
he  reflected.  "Perhaps  I  shall  hear  from  him 
again." 

It  was  this  reflection  which  led  him  to  keep 
the  matter  secret  from  Mrs.  Hamilton,  to 
whom  he  had  been  tempted  to  speak. 

"I  will  wait  till  I  know  more,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "This  Barnes  knows  my  address, 
and  he  can  communicate  with  me  if  he 
chooses," 


The    Store    Boy.  151 

Of  course,  the  reader  understands  that  Con- 
rad was  at  the  bottom  of  the  trick,  and  that 
the  object  was  to  persuade  Mrs.  Hamilton  that 
the  boy  she  trusted  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
gambling  houses.  The  plan  had  been  sug- 
gested by  Conrad,  and  the  details  agreed  upon 
by  him  and  his  mother.  This  explains  why 
Conrad  was  so  conveniently  near  at  hand  to 
see  Ben  coming  out  of  the  gambling  house. 

The  boy  reported  the  success  of  this  plan  to 
his  mother. 

"I  never  saw  a  boy  look  so  puzzled,"  he  said, 
with  a  chuckle,  "when  he  came  out  of  the 
gambling  house.  I  should  like  to  know  what 
sort  of  a  time  he  had  there.  I  expected  he 
would  get  kicked  out." 

"I  feel  no  interest  in  that  matter,"  said  his 
mother.  "I  am  more  interested  to  know  what 
Cousin  Hamilton  will  say  when  she  finds 
where  her  model  boy  has  been." 

"She'll  give  him  his  walking  ticket,  I  hope." 

"She  ought  to;  but  she  seems  so  infatuated 
with  him  that  there  is  no  telling." 

"When  shall  you  tell  her,  mother?" 

"I  will  wait  a  day  or  two.  I  want  to  man- 
age matters  so  as  not  to  arouse  any  suspicion." 


152  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

BEN    ON   TRIAL. 

"EXCUSE  my  intrusion,  Cousin  Hamilton;  J 
see  you  are  engaged." 

The  speaker  was  Mrs.  Hill,  and  the  person 
addressed  was  her  wealthy  cousin.  It  was 
two  days  after  the  event  recorded  in  the  last 
chapter. 

"I  am  only  writing  a  note,  about  which 
there  is  no  haste.  Did  you  wish  to  speak  to 
me?" 

Mrs.  Hamilton  leaned  back  in  her  chair, 
and  waited  to  hear  what  Mrs.  Hill  had  to  say. 
There  was  very  little  similarity  between  the 
two  ladies.  One  was  stout,  with  a  pleasant, 
benevolent  face,  to  whom  not  only  children, 
but  older  people,  were  irresistibly  attracted. 
The  other  was  thin,  with  cold,  gray  eyes,  a 
pursed-up  mouth,  thin  lips,  who  had  never 
succeeded  in  winning  the  affection  of  any  one. 
True,  she  had  married,  but  her  husband  was 
attracted  by  a  small  sum  of  money  which  she 


The    Store    Boy.  153 

possessed,  and  which  had  been  reported  to  him 
as  much  larger  than  it  really  was. 

When  asked  if  she  wished  to  speak,  Mrs. 
Hill  coughed. 

"There's  a  matter  I  think  I  ought  to  speak 
of,"  she  said,  "but  it  is  painful  for  me  to  do 
so." 

"Why  is  it  painful?"  asked  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
eying  her  steadily. 

"Because  my  motives  may  be  misconstrued. 
Then,  I  fear  it  will  give  you  pain." 

"Pain  is  sometimes  salutary.  Has  Conrad 
displeased  you?" 

"No,  indeed!"  answered  Mrs.  Hill,  half  in- 
dignantly. "My  boy  is  a  great  comfort  to  me." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
dryly. 

For  her  own  part,  Mrs.  Hamilton  thought 
her  cousin's  son  one  of  the  least  attractive 
young  people  she  had  ever  met,  and  save  for  a 
feeling  of  pity,  and  the  slight  claims  of  rela- 
tionship, would  not  have  been  willing  to  keep 
him  in  the  house. 

"I  don't  see  why  you  should  have  judged  so 
ill  of  my  poor  Conrad,"  complained  Mrs.  Hill. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  so  well  pleased  with  him. 
Let  me  know  what  you  have  to  communicate." 

"It  is  something  about  the  new  boy — Benja- 
min." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  lifted  her  eyebrows  slightly. 

"Speak  without  hesitation,"  she  said. 

"You  will  be  sure  not  to  misjudge  me?" 


>     The    Store    Boy. 

"Why  should  IT' 

"You  might  think  I  was  jealous  on  account 
of  my  own  boy." 

"There  is  no  occasion  for  you  to  be  jealous." 

"No,  of  course  not.  I  am  sure  Conrad  and 
I  have  abundant  cause  to  be  grateful  to  you." 

"That  is  not  telling  me  what  you  came  to 
tell,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  impatiently. 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  deceived  in  the  boy, 
Cousin  Hamilton." 

"In  what  respect?" 

"I  am  almost  sorry  I  had  not  kept  the  mat- 
ter secret.  If  I  did  not  consider  it  my  duty 
to  you,  I  would  have  done  so." 

"Be  kind  enough  to  speak  at  once.  You 
need  not  apologize,  nor  hesitate  on  my  account. 
What  has  Ben  been  doing?" 

"On  Tuesday  evening  he  was  seen  coming 
out  of  a  well-known  gambling  house." 

"Who  saw  him?" 

"Conrad." 

"How  did  Conrad  know  that  it  was  a  gam- 
bling house?" 

"He  had  had  it  pointed  out  to  him  as  such," 
Mrs.  Hill  answered,  with  some  hesitation. 

"About  what  time  was  this?" 

"A  little  after  nine  in  the  evening." 

"And  where  was  the  gambling  house  situ- 
ated?" 

"On  Thirty-first  Street." 

A  peculiar  look  came  over  Mrs.  Hamilton's 
face. 


The    Store    Boy.  155 

"And  Conrad  reported  this  to  you?" 

"The  same  evening." 

"That  was  Tuesday?" 

"Yes;  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  tell 
you  immediately,  because  I  did  not  want  to 
injure  the  boy." 

"You  are  more  considerate  than  I  should 
have  expected." 

"I  hope  I  am.  I  don't  pretend  to  like  the 
boy.  He  seems  to  have  something  sly  and 
underhand  about  him.  Still,  he  needs  to  be 
employed,  and  that  made  me  pause." 

"Till  your  sense  of  duty  to  me  overcame 
your  reluctance?" 

"Exactly  so,  Cousin  Hamilton.  I  am  glad 
you  understand  so  well  how  I  feel  about  the 
matter." 

Mrs.  Hill  was  quite  incapable  of  under- 
standing the  irony  of  her  cousin's  last  remark, 
and  was  inclined  to  be  well  pleased  with  the 
reception  her  news  had  met  with. 

"Where  is  Conrad?" 

"He  is  not  in  the  house.  He  didn't  want  me 
to  tell  you." 

"That  speaks  well  for  him.  I  must  speak  to 
Ben  on  the  subject." 

She  rang  the  bell,  and  a  servant  appeared. 

"See  if  Master  Ben  is  in  his  room,"  said  the 
lady.  "If  so,  ask  him  to  come  here  for  five 
minutes." 

,  Ben  was  in  the  house,  and  in  less  than  two 
minutes  he  entered  the  room.     He  glanced 


156  The    Store    Boy. 

from  one  lady  to  the  other  in  some  surprise. 
Mrs.  Hamilton  wore  her  ordinary  manner,  but 
Mrs.  Hill's  mouth  was  more  pursed  up  than 
ever.  She  looked  straight  before  her,  and  did 
not  look  at  Ben  at  all. 

"Ben,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  coming  to  the 
point  at  once,  "did  you  visit  a  gambling  house 
in  Thirty- first  Street  on  Tuesday  evening?" 

"I  did,"  answered  Ben,  promptly. 

Mrs.  Hill  moved  her  hands  slightly,  and 
looked  horror-stricken. 

"You  must  have  had  some  good  reason  for 
doing  so.  I  take  it  for  granted  you  did  not 
go  there  to  gamble?" 

"No,"  answered  Ben,  with  a  smile.  "That 
is  not  in  my  line." 

"What  other  purpose  could  he  have  had, 
Cousin  Hamilton?"  put  in  Mrs.  Hill,  mali- 
ciously. 

Ben  eyed  her  curiously. 

"Did  Mrs.-  Hill  tell  you  I  went  there?"  he 
asked. 

"I  felt  it  my  duty  to  do  so,"  said  that  lady, 
with  acerbity.  "I  dislike  to  see  my  cousin  so 
deceived  and  imposed  upon  by  one  she  had  be- 
friended." 

"How  did  you  know  I  went  there,  Mrs. 
Hill?" 

"Conrad  saw  you  coming  out  of  the  gam- 
bling house." 

"I  didn't  see  him.     It  was  curious  he  hap- 


The    Store    Boy.  157 

pened  to  be  in  that  neighborhood  just  at  that 
time,"  said  Ben,  significantly. 

"If  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  Conrad  goes 
to  such  places,  you  are  quite  mistaken,"  said 
Mrs.  Hill,  sharply. 

"It  was  not  that  I  meant  to  insinuate  at  all." 

"You  have  not  yet  told  me  why  you  went 
there,  Ben?"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  mildly. 

"Because  I  received  a  mysterious  letter, 
signed  James  Barnes,  asking  me  to  come  to 
that  address  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
I  was  told  I  would  hear  something  of  advan- 
tage to  myself." 

"Did  you  meet  any  such  man  there?"  asked 
Mrs.  Hill. 

"No." 

"Have  you  got  the  letter  you  speak  of?" 
asked  Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"No,"  answered  Ben.  "I  must  have  drop- 
ped it  somewhere.  I  felt  in  my  pocket  for  it 
when  I  reached  the  gambling  house,  but  it  was 
gone." 

Mrs.  Hill  looked  fairly  triumphant. 

"A  very  queer  story !"  she  said,  nodding  her 
head.  "I  don't  believe  you  received  any  such 
letter.  I  presume  you  had  often  been  to  the 
same  place,  to  misspend  your  evenings." 

"Do  you  think  so,  Mrs.  Hamilton?"  inquired 
Ben,  anxiously. 

"It  is  a  pity  you  lost  that  letter,  Ben." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  answered  Ben,  regretfully. 

"Mrs.   Hill,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  "if  you 


158  The    Store    Boy. 

will  withdraw,  I  would  like  to  say  a  few  words 
to  Ben  in  private." 

"Certainly,  Cousin  Hamilton,"  returned  the 
poor  cousin,  with  alacrity.  "I  think  his  race 
is  about  run,"  she  said  to  herself,  in  a  tone  of 
congratulation. 


The    Store    Boy.  159 


CHAPTEK    XXV. 

CONRAD    TAKES    A    BOLD    STEP. 

"I  HOPE,,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  you  don't  suspect 
me  of  frequenting  gambling  houses?"  said 
Ben,  after  his  enemy  had  left  the  room. 

"No,"  answered  Mrs.  Hamilton,  promptly. 
"I  think  I  know  you  too  well  for  that." 

"I  did  go  on  Tuesday  evening,  I  admit,"  con- 
tinued Ben.  "I  saw  that  Mrs.  Hill  did  not 
believe  it,  but  it  is  true.  I  wish  I  hadn't  lost 
the  letter  inviting  me  there.  You  might  think 
I  had  invented  the  story." 

"But  I  don't,  Ben;  and,  for  the  best  of  all 
reasons,  because  I  found  the  note  on  the  car- 
pet, and  have  it  in  my  possession  now." 

"Have  you?"  exclaimed  Ben,  gladly. 

"Here  it  is,"  said  the  lady,  as  she  produced 
the  note  from  the  desk  before  her.  "It  is 
singular  such  a  note  should  have  been  sent 
you,"  she  added,  thoughtfully. 

"I  think  so,  too.  I  had  no  suspicion  when 
I  received  it,  but  I  think  now  that  it  was  writ- 
ten to  get  me  into  a  scrape." 

"Then  it  must  have  been   written  by  an 


160  The    Store    Boy. 

enemy.  Do  you  know  of  any  one  who  would 
feel  like  doing  you  a  bad  turn?" 

"No,"  answered  Ben,  shaking  his  head. 

"Do  you  recognize  the  handwriting?" 

"No ;  it  may  have  been  written  by  some  per- 
son I  know,  but  I  have  no  suspicion  and  no 
clew." 

"I  think  we  will  let  the  matter  rest  for  a 
short  time.  If  we  say  nothing  about  it,  the 
guilty  person  may  betray  himself." 

"You  are  very  kind  to  keep  your  confidence 
in  me,  Mrs.  Hamilton,"  said  Ben,  gratefully. 

"I  trust  you  as  much  as  ever,  Ben,  but  I 
shall  appear  not  to — for  a  time." 

Ben  looked  puzzled. 

"I  won't  explain  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton, with  a  smile,  "but  I  intend  to  treat  you 
coolly  for  a  time,  as  if  you  had  incurred  my 
displeasure.  You  need  not  feel  sensitive,  how- 
ever, but  may  consider  that  I  am  acting." 

"Then  it  may  be  as  well  for  me  to  act,  too," 
suggested  Ben. 

"A  good  suggestion!  You  will  do  well  to 
look  sober,  and  uneasy." 

"I  will  do  my  best,"  answered  Ben,  brightly. 

The  programme  was  carried  out.  To  the 
great  delight  of  Mrs.  Hill  and  Conrad,  Mrs. 
Hamilton  scarcely  addressed  a  word  to  Ben 
at  the  supper  table.  When  she  did  speak,  it 
was  with  an  abruptness  and  coldness  quite 
unusual  for  the  warm-hearted  woman.  Ben 
looked  depressed,  fixed  his  eyes  on  his  plate, 


The    Store    Boy.  161 

and  took  very  little  part  in  the  conversation. 
Mrs.  Hill  and  Conrad,  on  the  other  hand, 
seemed  in  very  good  spirits.  They  chatted 
cheerfully,  and  addressed  an  occasional  word 
to  Ben.  They  could  afford  to  be  magnani- 
mous, feeling  that  he  had  forfeited  their  rich 
cousin's  favor. 

After  supper,  Conrad  went  into  his  mother's 
room. 

"Our  plan  is  working  well,  mother,"  he  said, 
rubbing  his  hands. 

"Yes,  Conrad,  it  is.  Cousin  Hamilton  is 
very  angry  with  the  boy.  She  scarcely  spoke 
a  word  to  him." 

"He  won't  stay  long,  I'll  be  bound.  Can't 
you  suggest,  mother,  that  he  had  better  be  dis- 
missed at  once?" 

"No,  Conrad;  we  have  done  all  that  is 
needed.  We  can  trust  Cousin  Hamilton  to 
deal  with  him.  She  will  probably  keep  him 
for  a  short  time,  till  she  can  get  along  without 
his  services." 

"It's  lucky  he  lost  the  letter.  Cousin 
Hamilton  will  think  he  never  received  any." 

So  the  precious  pair  conferred  together.  It 
was  clear  that  Ben  had  two  dangerous  and  un- 
scrupulous enemies  in  the  house. 

It  was  all  very  well  to  anticipate  revenge 
upon  Ben,  and  his  summary  dismissal,  but  this 
did  not  relieve  Conrad  from  his  pecuniary  em- 
barrassments. As  a  general  thing,  his  weekly 
allowance  was  spent  by  the  middle  of  the  week. 


1 62  The    Store    Boy. 

Ben  had  refused  to  lend  money,  and  there  was 
no  one  else  he  could  call  upon.  Even  if  our 
hero  was  dismissed,  there  seemed  likely  to  be 
no  improvement  in  this  respect. 

At  this  juncture,  Conrad  was,  unfortunately, 
subjected  to  a  temptation  which  proved  too 
strong  for  him. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  was  the  possessor  of  an  ele- 
gant opera  glass,  which  she  had  bought  some 
years  previous  in  Paris  at  a  cost  of  fifty  dol- 
lars. Generally,  when  not  in  use,  she  kept  it 
locked  up  in  a  bureau  drawer.  It  so  happened, 
however,  that  it  had  been  left  out  on  a  re- 
turn from  a  matine'e,  and  lay  upon  her  desk, 
where  it  attracted  the  attention  of  Conrad. 

It  was  an  unlucky  moment,  for  he  felt  very 
hard  up.  He  wished  to  go  to  the  theatre  in 
the  evening  with  a  friend,  but  had  no  money. 

It  flashed  upon  him  that  he  could  raise  a 
considerable  sum  on  the  opera  glass  at  Simp- 
son's, a  well-known  pawnbroker  on  the  Bow- 
ery, and  he  could,  without  much  loss  of  time, 
stop  there  on  his  way  down  to  business. 

Scarcely  giving  himself  time  to  think,  he 
seized  the  glass  and  thrust  it  into  the  pocket 
of  his  overcoat.  Then,  putting  on  his  coat, 
he  hurried  from  the  house. 

Arrived  at  the  pawnbroker's,  he  produced 
the  glass,  and  asked: 

"How  much  will  you  give  me  on  this?" 

The  attendant  looked  at  the  glass,  and  then 
at  Conrad. 


The    Store    Boy.  163 

"This  is  a  very  valuable  glass,"  he  said.  "Is 
it  yours?" 

"No,"  answered  Conrad,  glibly.  "It  belongs 
to  a  lady  in  reduced  circumstances,  who  needs 
to  raise  money.  She  will  probably  be  able 
to  redeem  it  soon." 

"Did  she  send  you  here?" 

"Yes." 

"We  will  loan  you  twenty  dollars  on  it. 
Will  that  be  satisfactory?" 

"Quite  so,"  answered  Conrad,  quite  elated 
at  the  sum,  which  exceeded  his  anticipations. 

"Shall  we  make  out  the  ticket  to  you  or  the 
lady?" 

"To  me.  The  lady  does  not  like  to  have  her 
name  appear  in  the  matter." 

This  is  so  frequently  the  case  that  the  state- 
ment created  no  surprise. 

"What  is  your  name?"  inquired  the  attend- 
ant. 

"Ben  Barclay,"  answered  Conrad,  readily. 

The  ticket  Avas  made  out,  the  money  paid 
over,  and  Conrad  left  the  establishment. 

"Now  I  am  in  funds!"  he  said  to  himself, 
"and  there  is  no  danger  of  detection.  If  any- 
thing is  ever  found  out,  it  will  be  Ben  who 
will  be  in  trouble,  not  I." 

It  was  not  long  before  Mrs.  Hamilton  dis- 
covered her  loss.  She  valued  the  missing  op- 
era glass,  for  reasons  which  need  not  be  men- 
tioned, far  beyond  its  intrinsic  value,  and 
though  she  could  readily  have  supplied  its 


164  The    Store    Boy. 

place,  so  far  as  money  was  concerned,  she 
would  not  have  been  as  well  pleased  with  any 
new  glass,  though  precisely  sjmilar,  as  with 
the  one  she  had  used  for  years.  She  remem- 
bered that  she  had  not  replaced  the  glass  in 
the  drawer,  and,  therefore,  searched  for  it 
wherever  she  thought  it  likely  to  have  been 
left.  But  in  vain. 

"Ben,"  she  said,  "have  you  seen  my  glass 
anywhere  about?" 

"I  think,"  answered  Ben,  "that  I  saw  it  on 
your  desk." 

"It  is  not  there  now,  but  it  must  be  some- 
where in  the  house." 

She  next  asked  Mrs.  Hill.  The  housekeeper 
was  entirely  ignorant  of  Conrad's  theft,  and 
answered  that  she  had  not  seen  it. 

"I  ought  not  to  have  left  it  about,"  said  Mrs. 
Hamilton.  "It  may  have  proved  too  strong 
a  temptation  to  some  one  of  the  servants." 

"Or  some  one  else,"  suggested  Mrs.  Hill,  sig- 
nificantly. 

"That  means  Ben,"  thought  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
but  she  did  not  say  so. 

"I  would  ferret  out  the  matter  if  I  were 
you,"  continued  Mrs.  Hill. 

"I  intend  to,"  answered  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
quietly.  "I  valued  the  glass  far  beyond  its 
cost,  and  I  will  leave  no  means  untried  to  re- 
cover it." 

"You  are  quite  right,  too." 


The    Store    Boy.  165 

When  Conrad  was  told  that  the  opera  glass 
had  been  lost,  he  said : 

"Probably  Ben  stole  it." 

"So  I  think,"  assented  his  mother.  "But  it 
will  be  found  out.  Cousin  Hamilton  has  put 
the  matter  into  the  hands  of  a  detective." 

For  the  moment,  Conrad  felt  disturbed.  But 
he  quickly  recovered  himself. 

"Pshaw!  they  can't  trace  it  to  me,"  he 
thought.  "They  will  put  it  on  Ben." 


1 66  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MR.    LYNX,   THE   DETECTIVE. 

THE  detective  who  presented  himself  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton  was  a  quiet-looking  man,  clad  in  a 
brown  suit.  Except  that  his  eyes  were  keen 
and  searching,  his  appearance  was  disappoint- 
ing. Conrad  met  him  as  he  was  going  out  of 
the  house,  and  said  to  himself,  contemptu- 
ously :  "He  looks  like  a  muff." 

"I  have  sent  for  you,  Mr.  Lynx,"  said  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  "to  see  if  you  can  help  me  in  a  mat- 
ter I  will  explain  to  you,"  and  then  she  gave 
him  all  the  information  she  possessed  about 
the  loss  of  the  opera  glass. 

"How  valuable  was  the  glass?"  inquired  Mr. 
Lynx. 

"It  cost  fifty  dollars  in  Paris,"  said  Mrs. 
Hamilton. 

"But  you  set  a  higher  value  upon  it  for  other 
reasons?  Just  so." 

"You  are  right." 

"Will  you  favor  me  with  an  exact  descrip- 


The    Store    Boy.  167 

tion  of  the  article?"  said  the  detective,  produc- 
ing his  notebook. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  did  so,  and  the  detective 
made  an  entry. 

"Have  you  ever  had  anything  taken  out  of 
your  house  by  outside  parties?"  he  asked. 

"On  one  occasion,  when  my  brother  was 
visiting  me,  his  overcoat  was  taken  from  the 
hatstand  in  the  hall." 

"A  sneak  thief,  of  course.  The  glass,  how- 
ever, was  not  so  exposed?" 

"No;  it  was  not  on  the  lower  floor  at  all." 

"It  looks,  then,  as  if  it  was  taken  by  some 
one  in  the  house." 

"It  looks  so,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  gravely. 

"Have  you  confidence  in  your  servants?  Or, 
rather,  have  you  reason  to  suspect  any  of 
them?" 

"I  believe  they  are  honest.  I  don't  believe 
they  would  be  tempted  by  such  an  article." 

"Not,  perhaps,  for  their  own  use,  but  a  glass 
like  this  may  be  pawned  for  a  considerable 
sum.  Being  of  peculiar  appearance,  the  thief 
would  be  hardly  likely  to  use  it  himself  or 
herself.  Detection  would  be  too  sure." 

"No  doubt  you  are  right." 

"How  long  has  the  glass  been  missing?"  re- 
sumed the  detective. 

"Three  days." 

"No  doubt  it  has  been  pawned  by  this  time. 
Your  course  is  clear." 

"And  what  is  that?" 


1 68  The    Store    Boy. 

"To  make  a  tour  of  the  pawnshops,  and  as- 
certain whether  such  an  article  has  been 
brought  to  any  one  of  them." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Lynx.  I  leave  the  matter 
in  your  hands.  I  trust  everything  to  your 
judgment." 

"Thank  you.  I  will  try  to  deserve  your  con- 
fidence. And  now,  good-day.  I  may  call  upon 
you  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Lynx  left  the  presence  of  the  lady,  and 
went  downstairs.  He  had  just  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  staircase,  when  a  thin  lady 
glided  from  the  rear  of  the  hall,  and  spoke 
to  him. 

"Are  you  the  detective  summoned  by  Mrs. 
Hamilton?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  madam,"  answered  Mr.  Lynx,  survey- 
ing the  housekeeper  attentively. 

"I  am  Mrs.  Hill,  the  housekeeper,"  said  she. 
"I  may  add  that  I  am  a  cousin  of  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton's." 

Mr.  Lynx  bowed,  and  waited  for  further  in- 
formation. He  knew  who  was  addressing  him, 
for  he  had  questioned  Mrs.  Hamilton  as  to 
the  different  inmates  of  the  house. 

"I  stopped  you,"  said  Mrs.  Hill,  "because 
I  have  my  suspicions,  and  I  thought  I  might 
help  you  in  this  investigation." 

"I  shall  feel  indebted  to  you  for  any  help 
you  can  afford.  Do  you  mind  telling  me  upon 
what  your  suspicions  rest?" 

"I  don't  like  to  accuse  or  throw  suspicion 


The    Store    Boy.  169 

on  any  one,"  said  the  housekeeper,  "but  I  think 
it  is  my  duty  to  help  my  cousin  in  this  mat- 
ter." 

"Undoubtedly,"  said  Mr.  Lynx,  noticing  that 
she  paused.  "Proceed." 

"You  may  or  may  not  be  aware  that  my 
cousin  employs  a  boy  of  about  sixteen,  whom, 
as  I  think,  she  engaged  rather  rashly,  with- 
out knowing  anything  of  his  antecedents.  He 
assists  her  in  her  writing  and  accounts." 

"His  name  is  Benjamin  Barclay,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  his  habits?" 

"He  is  very  plausible.  In  fact,  I  think  his 
appearance  is  in  his  favor;  but  I  think  he  is 
sly.  Still  water,  you  know,  runs  deep." 

Mr.  Lynx  bowed  assent. 

"I  was  disposed,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Hill,  art- 
fully, "to  think  well  of  the  boy,  and  to  approve 
my  cousin's  selection,  until  last  week  he  was 
seen  leaving  a  well-known  gambling  house  in 
Thirty-first  Street." 

"Indeed!     That  is  certainly  suspicious." 

"Is  it  not?" 

"Who  saw  him  leaving  the  gambling  house, 
Mrs.  Hill?" 

"My  son,  Conrad." 

"Curious  that  he  should  have  been  near 
at  the  time !" 

"He  was  taking  a  walk.  He  generally  goes 
out  in  the  evening." 


170  The    Store    Boy. 

"Of  course  your  son  would  not  visit  such 
a  place?" 

"Certainly  not,"  answered  Mrs.  Hill,  look- 
ing offended  at  the  suggestion. 

"By  the  way,  are  the  two  boys  intimate? 
Do  they  seem  to  like  each  other?" 

"My  Conrad  always  treats  the  other  boy 
well,  out  of  common  politeness,  but  I  don't 
think  he  likes  him  very  well." 

"Is  your  son  in  any  situation?" 

"He  is  now." 

"Was  he  at  the  time  this  Benjamin  was  en- 
gaged by  Mrs.  Hamilton?" 

"No." 

"Rather  singular  that  she  did  not  employ 
your  son,  instead  of  seeking  out  a  stranger, 
isn't  it?" 

"Now  that  you  mention  it,  I  confess  that 
I  did  feel  hurt  at  the  slight  to  my  boy.  How- 
ever, I  don't  wish  to  interfere  with  Cousin 
Hamilton,  or  obtrude  my  son  upon  her." 

"Strong  jealousy  there !"  thought  the  detect- 
ive. 

"So  you  think  this  Ben  Barclay  may  have 
taken  the  glass?"  he  said,  inquiringly. 

"I  do.  Since  he  visits  gambling  houses,  he 
doubtless  squanders  money,  and  can  find  a 
market  for  more  than  he  can  honestly  earn." 

"As  you  say,  gambling  often  leads  to  dis- 
honesty. Does  Mrs.  Hamilton  know  that  her 
protege  visited  a  gambling  house?" 

"Yes." 


The    Store    Boy.  171 

"Mentioned  it  to  him,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes." 

"Of  course,  he  denied  it?" 

"No;  he  admitted  it,  but  said  he  received  a 
letter  from  a  stranger  appointing  to  meet  him 
there.  It  is  rather  curious  that  he  couldn't 
show  the  letter,  however.  He  pretended  he 
had  lost  it." 

"Did  Mrs.  Hamilton  believe  him?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  think  not,  for,  though  she 
has  not  discharged  him,  she  treats  him  very 
coldly." 

"Have  you  any  further  information  to  give 
me?" 

"No.  I  hope  this  will  be  of  some  service 
to  you." 

"I  think  it  will.  Thank  you,  and  good- 
afternoon." 

"There !  I've  prejudiced  him  against  Ben," 
said  Mrs.  Hill  to  herself,  with  a  satisfied  smile. 
"These  detectives  are  glad  of  a  hint,  sharp  as 
they  think  themselves.  If  he  finds  out  that 
it  is  Ben,  he  will  take  all  the  credit  to  him- 
self, and  never  mention  me  in  the  matter.  How- 
ever, that  is  just  what  I  wish.  It  is  impor- 
tant that  I  should  not  appear  too  active  in 
getting  the  boy  into  trouble,  or  I  may  be 
thought  to  be  influenced  by  interested  motives, 
though,  Heaven  knows,  I  only  want  justice 
for  myself  and  my  boy.  The  sooner  we  get  this 
boy  out  of  the  house,  the  better  it  will  be  for 


172  The    Store    Boy. 

As  Mr.  Lynx  left  the  house,  he  smiled  to  him- 
self. 

"That  woman  and  her  son  hate  Ben  Bar- 
clay, that  much  is  certain,  and  look  upon  him 
as  an  interloper  and  a  rival.  I  rather  sym- 
pathize with  the  poor  fellow.  I  should  be 
sorry  to  find  him  guilty,  but  I  shall  not  stop 
short  till  I  have  ferreted  out  the  truth." 


The    Store    Boy.  173 


CHAPTEE  XXVII. 

THE      TELLTALE      TICKET. 

CONRAD  still  had  the  pawnbroker's  ticket 
which  he  had  received  in  return  for  the  opera 
glasses,  and  did  not  quite  know  what  to  do  with 
it.  He  didn't  intend  to  redeem  the  glass,  and  if 
found  in  his  possession,  it  would  bring  him  un- 
der suspicion.  Now  that  a  detective  had  the 
matter  in  charge,  it  occurred  to  him  that  it 
would  be  well  to  have  the  ticket  found  in  Ben's 
room. 

The  two  had  rooms  upon  the  same  floor,  and 
it  would,  therefore,  be  easy  to  slip  into  Ben's 
chamber  and  leave  it  somewhere  about. 

Now,  it  chanced  that  Susan,  the  chamber- 
maid, was  about,  though  Conrad  did  not  see 
her,  when  he  carried  out  his  purpose,  and, 
instigated  by  curiosity,  she  peeped  through 
the  half-open  door,  and  saw  him  place  the 
ticket  on  the  bureau. 

Wondering  what  it  was,  she  entered  the 
room  after  Conrad  had  vacated  it,  and  found 
the  ticket  Conrad  had  placed  there. 


174  The    Store    Boy. 

Susan  knew  what  a  pawnbroker's  ticket  was, 
and  read  if  with  curiosity. 

She  saw  that  it  was  made  out  to  Ben  Bar- 
clay. 

"How,  then,  did  Master  Conrad  get  hold 
of  it?"  she  said  to  herself.  "It's  my  belief  he's 
trying  to  get  Master  Ben  into  trouble.  It's 
a  shame,  it  is,  for  Master  Ben  is  a  gentleman 
and  he  isn't." 

Between  the  two  boys,  Susan  favored  Ben, 
who  always  treated  her  with  consideration, 
while  Conrad  liked  to  order  about  the  servants, 
as  if  they  were  made  to  wait  upon  him. 

After  Conrad  had  disposed  of  the  pawn 
ticket,  he  said,  carelessly,  to  his  mother: 

"Mother,  if  I  were  you,  I'd  look  into  Ben's 
room.  You  might  find  the  opera  glass  there." 

"I  don't  think  he'd  leave  it  there.  He  would 
pawn  it." 

"Then  you  might  find  the  ticket  somewhere 
about." 

Upon  this  hint,  Mrs.  Hill  went  up  to  Ben's 
room,  and  there,  upon  the  bureau  she  naturally 
found  the  ticket. 

"1  thought  so,"  she  said  to  herself.  "'Con- 
rad was  right.  The  boy  is  a  thief.  Here  is 
the  ticket  made  out  to  him  by  name.  Well, 
well,  he's  brazen  enough,  in  all  conscience! 
Now,  shall  I  show  it  to  Cousin  Hamilton  at 
once,  or  shall  I  wait  until  the  detective  has  re- 
ported?" 

On  the  whole,  Mrs.  Hill  decided  to  wait.  She 


The    Store    Boy.  175 

could  delay  with  safety,  for  she  had  proof 
which  would  utterly  crush  and  confound  the 
hated  interloper. 

Meanwhile,  the  detective  pursued  his  in- 
vestigations. Of  course,  he  visited  Simpson's, 
and  there  he  learned  that  the  opera  glass,  which 
he  readily  recognized  from  the  description,  had 
been  brought  there  a  few  days  previous. 

"Who  brought  it?"  he  asked. 

"A  boy  of  about  sixteen." 

"Did  he  give  his  name?" 

The  books  were  referred  to,  and  the  attend- 
ant answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"He  gave  the  name  of  Ben  Barclay,"  he  an- 
swered. 

"Do  you  think  that  was  his  real  name?" 
asked  the  detective. 

"That  depends  on  whether  he  had  a  right 
to  pawn  it." 

"Suppose  he  stole  it?" 

"Then,  probably,  he  did  not  give  his  real 
name." 

"So  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Lynx,  quietly. 

"Do  you  know  if  there  is  a  boy  by  that 
name?" 

"There  is;  but  I  doubt  if  he  knows  anything 
about  the  matter. 

"I  will  call  again,  perhaps  to-morrow,"  he 
added.  "I  must  report  to  my  principal  what 
I  have  discovered." 

From  Simpson's  he  went  straight  to  Mrs. 


176  The    Store    Boy. 

Hamilton,  who  had  as  yet  received  no  com- 
munication from  the  housekeeper. 

"Well,  Mr.  Lynx/'  she  asked,  with  interest, 
"have  you  heard  anything  of  the  glass?" 

"I  have  seen  it,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"Where?" 

"At  a  well-known  pawnshop  on  the  Bowery." 

"Did  you  learn  who  left  it?"  asked  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  eagerly. 

"A  boy — about  sixteen  years  of  age — who 
gave  the  name  of  Ben  Barclay !" 

"I  can't  believe  Ben  would  be  guilty  of  such 
a  disgraceful  act !"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
deeply  moved. 


The    Store   Boy.  177 


CHAPTEK  XXVIII. 

MRS.     HILL'S     MALICE. 

AT  this  moment  there  was  a  low  knock  on 
the  door. 

"Come  in !"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton. 

Mrs.  Hill,  the  housekeeper,  glided  in,  with 
her  usual  stealthy  step. 

"I  really  beg  pardon  for  intruding,"  she  said, 
with  a  slight  cough,  "but  I  thought  perhaps  I 
might  throw  light  on  the  matter  Mr.  Lynx  is 
investigating." 

"Well?"  said  the  detective,  eying  her  at- 
tentively. 

"I  had  occasion  to  go  into  Ben's  room  to 
see  if  the  girl  had  put  things  in  order,  when 
my  attention  was  drawn  to  a  ticket  upon  the 
bureau.  You  can  tell  whether  it  is  of  im- 
portance," and  she  handed  it,  with  an  air  of 
deference,  to  Mr.  Lynx. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"It  is  a  pawn  ticket,"  answered  Mr.  Lynx, 
attentively. 

"Let  me  see  it,  please !" 


178  The    Store    Boy. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  regarded  it  with  mingled 
pain  and  incredulity. 

"I  need  not  say,"  continued  the  housekeeper, 
"that  I  was  surprised  and  saddened  at  this 
evidence  of  the  boy's  depravity.  Cousin  Ham- 
ilton has  been  so  kind  to  him  that  it  seems 
like  the  height  of  ingratitude." 

"May  I  ask,  madam,"  said  Mr.  Lynx,  "if  your 
suspicions  had  fastened  on  this  boy,  Ben,  be- 
fore you  found  the  pawn  ticket?" 

"To  tell  the  truth,  they  had." 

"And  what  reason  had  you  for  forming  such 
suspicions?" 

"I  knew  that  the  boy  frequented  gambling 
houses,  and,  of  course,  no  salary,  however 
large,  would  be  sufficient  for  a  boy  with  such 
habits." 

Mrs.  Hamilton  did  not  speak,  which  some- 
what embarrassed  Mrs.  Hill.  Mr.  Lynx,  how- 
ever, was  very  affable,  and  thanked  her  for 
her  assistance. 

"I  felt  it  my  duty  to  assist  Cousin  Hamil- 
ton," said  she,  "though  I  am  sorry  for  that 
ungrateful  boy.  I  will  now  withdraw,  and 
leave  you  to  confer  together." 

Mrs.  Hill  would  like  to  have  been  invited 
to  remain,  but  such  an  invitation  was  not 
given. 

"What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Lynx?"  asked  Mrs. 
Hamilton. 

"I  think  your  housekeeper  does  not  like  Ben 
Barclay,"  he  answered,  dryly. 


The    Store    Boy.  179 

"And  you  don't  think  him  guilty?"  she  asked, 
eagerly. 

"No;  the  boy  isn't  fool  enough,  first,  to  give 
his  own  name  at  the  pawnbroker's,  and  next, 
to  leave  the  ticket  exposed  in  his  room." 

"How  then  did  it  come  there?" 

Mr.  Lynx  was  saved  the  trouble  of  answer- 
ing by  another  tap  on  the  door. 

"Who  is  it  now?"  he  said. 

He  stepped  to  the  door,  and  opening  it,  ad- 
mitted Susan. 

"What  is  it,  Susan?"  asked  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
in  some  surprise. 

"Did  Mrs.  Hill  bring  you  a  pawn  ticket, 
ma'am?" 

"And  what  do  you  know  about  it?"  de- 
manded Mr.  Lynx,  brusquely. 

"And  did  she  say  she  found  it  on  Master 
Ben's  bureau?" 

"Yes,  Susan,"  said  the  mistress;  "what  can 
you  tell  us  about  it?" 

"I  can  tell  you  this,  ma'am,  that  I  saw  Mas- 
ter Conrad  steal  into  the  room  this  morning, 
and  put  it  there  with  his  o\vn  hands." 

"Ha !  this  is  something  to  the  purpose,"  said 
the  detective,  briskly. 

"Are  you  sure  of  this,  Susan?"  asked  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  evidently  shocked. 

"I  can  take  my  Bible  oath  of  it,  ma'am;  and 
it's  my  belief  that  he's  tryin'  to  get  Master 
Ben  into  trouble." 

"Thank  you,  Susan,"  said  her  mistress.  "You 


180  The    Store    Boy. 

have  done  not  only  Ben,  but  myself,  a  valua- 
ble service.  You  can  go.  I  will  see  that  you 
do  not  regret  it." 

"Don't  tell  Mrs.  Hill  that  I  told  you,  or  she'd 
be  my  enemy  for  life!" 

"I  will  see  to  that." 

As  Susan  left  the  room,  Mr.  Lynx  said : 

"You  won't  require  my  services  any  longer. 
It  is  clear  enough  who  pawned  the  glass." 

"You  mean 

"I  mean  the  boy  Conrad,  whose  mother  was 
so  anxious  to  fix  the  guilt  upon  your  young 
secretary.  If  you  have  the  slightest  doubt 
about  it,  invite  the  young  gentleman  to  accom- 
pany you  to  Simpson's  to  redeem  the  opera 
glass." 

"I  will." 


The    Store    Boy.  181 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

SOME    UNEXPECTED    CHANGES. 

WHEN  Conrad  came  home  his  first  visit  was 
to  his  mother. 

"Has  anything  been  found  out  about  the 
stolen  opera  glass?"  he  asked,  with  a  studied 
air  of  indifference. 

"I  should  say  there  had,"  she  answered.  "I 
followed  the  clew  you  suggested,  and  searched 
the  boy's  room.  On  the  bureau  I  found  the 
pawn  ticket." 

"You  don't  say  so !  What  a  muff  Ben  must 
have  been  to  leave  it  around  so  carelessly! 
What  did  you  do  with  it?" 

"I  waited  till  Mr.  Lynx  was  conferring  with 
Cousin  Hamilton,  and  then  I  carried  it  in 
and  gave  it  to  them." 

"What  did  they  say?"  asked  Conrad,  eagerly. 

"They  seemed  thunderstruck,  and  Mr.  Lynx 
very  politely  thanked  me  for  the  help  I  had 
given  them." 

"Has  Ben  been  bounced  yet?" 

"No;  but  doubtless  he  will  be  very  soon. 
Cousin  Hamilton  doesn't  want  to  think  him 


1 82  The    Store    Boy. 

a  thief  and  gambler,  but  there  seems  no  way 
of  escaping  from  such  a  mass  of  proof." 

"I  should  say  not.  Do  you  think  she's  told 
Ben?  Does  he  look  down  in  the  mouth?" 
continued  Conrad. 

"I  haven't  seen  him  since." 

When  they  met  at  the  table  Mrs.  Hamilton's 
manner  toward  Ben  was  decidedly  frigid,  as 
Conrad  and  his  mother  saw,  much  to  their  sat- 
isfaction. Ben  looked  sober,  but  his  appetite 
did  not  appear  to  be  affected. 

"Your  course  is  about  run,  young  man!" 
thought  Mrs.  Hill. 

"I  should  like  to  see  you  after  supper,  Con- 
rad," said  Mrs.  Hamilton.  "Come  into  my 
sitting-room." 

"I  wonder  if  she  is  going  to  give  me  Ben's 
place,"  thought  Conrad,  hardly  knowing 
whether  he  wished  it  or  not. 

With  a  jaunty  air  and  a  self-satisfied  smile, 
he  followed  Mrs.  Hamilton  into  her  "private 
office,"  as  she  sometimes  called  it. 

"Shut  the  door,  Conrad,"  she  said. 

He  did  so. 

"I  have  heard  news  of  the  opera  glass,"  she 
commenced. 

"Mother  gave  me  a  hint  of  that,"  said  Con- 
rad. 

"It  was  stolen  and  pawned  at  Simpson's  on 
the  Bowery." 

"It's  a  great  shame !"  said  Conrad,  thinking 
that  a  safe  comment  to  make. 


The    Store    Boy.  183 

"Yes,  it  was  a  shame  and  a  disgrace  to  the 
one  who  took  it." 

"I  didn't  think  Ben  would  do  such  a  thing," 
continued  Conrad,  growing  bolder. 

"Nor  I,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"After  all  you've  done  for  him,  too.  I  never 
liked  the  boy,  for  my  part." 

"So  I  suspected,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  dryly. 
"However,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  want  of  you. 
I  am  going  down  to  Simpson's  tomorrow  to 
redeem  the  glass,  and  want  you  to  go  with  me." 

"You  want  me  to  go  with  you !"  ejaculated 
Conrad,  turning  pale. 

"Yes;  I  don't  care  to  go  to  that  part  of  the 
city  by  myself,  and  I  will  take  you  to  keep 
me  company." 

"But  I  must  go  to  the  office,"  faltered  Con- 
rad. 

"I  will  send  Ben  to  say  that  you  can't  go 
to-morrow." 

"Why  don't  you  take  Ben  to  Simpson's,  or 
the  detective?"  suggested  Conrad,  in  great 
alarm,  bethinking  himself  that  it  would  hardly 
do  to  take  Ben,  since  the  attendant  would  cer- 
tify that  he  was  not  the  one  who  pawned  the 
glass. 

"Because  I  prefer  to  take  you.  Have  you 
any  objection  to  going?" 

"Oh,  no,  of  course  not!"  answered  Conrad, 
not  daring  to  make  any  further  objection. 

In  the  morning  Mrs.  Hill  came  to  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton, and  said: 


184  The    Store    Boy. 

"Poor  Conrad  has  a  terrible  toothache !  He 
is  afraid  he  won't  be  able  to  go  with  you  to 
Simpson's.  Will  you  kindly  excuse  him?" 

Mrs.  Hamilton  expected  some  such  excuse. 

"I  will  take  Ben,  then,"  she  said. 

"Are  you  going  to  keep  that  boy — after  what 
he  has  done?"  asked  the  housekeeper. 

"It  is  inconvenient  for  me  to  part  with  him 
just  yet." 

"Then — I  hope  you  will  excuse  the  sugges- 
tion— I  advise  you  to  keep  your  bureau  draw- 
ers locked." 

"I  think  it  best  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton. "Is  Conrad's  toothache  very  bad?" 

"The  poor  fellow  is  in  great  pain." 

When  Ben  was  invited  by  Mrs.  Hamilton 
to  go  to  the  pawnbroker's  he  made  no  objec- 
tion. 

"It  is  only  fair  to  tell  you,  Ben,"  said  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  "that  the  person  who  pawned  the 
opera  glass  gave  your  name." 

"Then,"  said  Ben,  "I  should  like  to  know 
who  it  is?" 

"I  think  I  know,"  said  his  patroness;  "but 
when  we  redeem  the  glass  we  will  ask  for  a 
description  of  him." 

An  hour  later  they  entered  the  pawnbrok- 
er's shop.  Mrs.  Hamilton  presented  the  ticket 
and  made  herself  known. 

"Will  you  tell  me,"  she  asked,  "whether  you 
have  ever  seen  the  young  gentleman  that  ac- 
companies me?" 


The    Store    Boy.  185 

"Not  to  iny  knowledge/'  answered  the  at- 
tendant, after  attentively  regarding  Ben. 

"Can  you  remember  the  appearance  of  the 
boy  who  pawned  the  opera  glass?" 

"He  was  taller  than  this  boy,  and  pale.  He 
was  thinner  also.  His  hair  was  a  light  brown." 

A  light  dawned  upon  Ben,  and  his  glance 
met  that  of  Mrs.  Hamilton,  so  that  she  read 
his  suspicions. 

"I  think  we  both  know  who  it  was  that  took 
your  name,  Ben,"  she  said;  "but  for  the  pres- 
ent I  wish  you  to  keep  it  secret." 

"I  will  certainly  do  so,  Mrs.  Hamilton." 

"I  am  placed  in  difficult  circumstances,  and 
have  not  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do." 

"I  hope  you  won't  allow  yourself  to  be  prej- 
udiced against  me  by  any  false  stories?" 

"No;  I  can  promise  you  that.  I  have  per- 
fect confidence  in  you." 

"Thank  you  for  that,  Mrs.  Hamilton,"  said 
Ben,  gratefully. 

"Yet  I  am  about  to  take  a  course  that  will 
surprise  you." 

"What  is  that?" 

"I  am  going  to  let  you  leave  me  for  a  time, 
and  put  Conrad  in  your  place." 

Ben  looked  bewildered,  as  well  he  might. 
There  was  nothing  that  would  have  surprised 
him  more. 

"Then  I  am  afraid  you  don't  find  me  sat- 
isfactory," he  said,  anxiously. 

"Why  not?" 


1 86  The    Store    Boy. 

"You  discharge  me  from  your  service." 

"No,"  answered  Mrs.  Hamilton,  smiling;  "I 
have  other  work  for  you  to  do.  I  mean  to  give 
you  a  confidential  commission." 

Ben's  face  brightened  up  immediately. 

"You  will  find  me  faithful,"  he  said,  "and 
I  hope  I  may  repay  your  confidence." 

"I  think  you  will.  I  will  explain  matters 
to  you  before  you  reach  the  house,  as  I  don't 
want  Mrs.  Hill  or  Conrad  to  know  about  the 
matter.  Indeed,  for  reasons  of  my  own,  I 
shall  let  them  think  that  I  discharged  you." 

Ben  smiled,  being  not  averse  to  such  a  plan. 

"Now  for  the  business.  I  own  a  farm  in 
the  western  part  of  Pennsylvania.  I  have  for 
years  let  it  for  a  nominal  sum  to  a  man  named 
Jackson.  Of  late  he  has  been  very  anxious 
to  buy  it,  and  has  offered  me  a  sum  greater 
than  I  had  supposed  it  to  be  worth.  As  I 
know  him  to  be  a  close-fisted  man,  who  has 
tried  more  than  once  to  get  me  to  reduce  the 
small  rent  I  charge  him,  this  naturally  excites 
my  curiosity.  I  think  something  has  been 
discovered  that  enhances  the  value  of  the  farm, 
and,  if  so,  I  want  to  know  it.  You  are  a  boy, 
and  a  visit  to  the  neighborhood  will  not  ex- 
cite surprise." 

"I  understand,"  said  Ben.  "When  do  you 
wish  me  to  start?" 

"This  afternoon.  I  have  prepared  written 
instructions,  and  here  is  a  pocketbook  contain- 
ing a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for  expenees." 


The    Store    Boy.  187 

"Shall  I  need  so  much?" 

"Probably  not;  but  I  wish  you  to  be  am- 
ply provided.  You  will  remove  all  your  things 
from  my  house,  but  you  may  store  anything 
you  don't  need  to  carry." 

When  Conrad  heard  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  had 
taken  Ben  with  her,  he  was  alarmed  lest  it 
should  be  discovered  that  the  boy  pawning 
the  opera  glass  was  not  Ben  but  himself.  When, 
upon  Mrs.  Hamilton's  return,  he  was  sum- 
moned to  her  presence,  he  entered  with  trepida- 
tion. 

"Is  your  toothache  better,  Conrad?"  asked 
Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"A  little  better,  thank  you." 

"I  am  going  to  make  a  change  in  your  posi- 
tion. Ben  is  to  leave  me,  and  you  will  take 
his  place  as  my  secretary." 

Conrad's  heart  bounded  with  joy  and  sur- 
prise. 

"How  can  I  thank  you,  Cousin  Hamilton!" 
he  said,  with  a  feeling  of  great  relief. 

"By  serving  me  well." 

"All  has  turned  out  for  the  best,  mother," 
said  Conrad,  joyfully,  as  he  sought  his  moth- 
er's presence.  "Ben  is  bounced,  and  I  am  to 
take  his  place." 

"Heaven  be  praised !"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Hill. 

"I  hope  you'll  soon  find  a  place,"  said  Con- 
rad, mockingly,  when  Ben  left  the  house,  valise 
in  hand. 

"I  think  I  shall,"  answered  Ben,  calmly. 


1 88  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

BEN     "GOES     WEST." 

\ 

UNDISTURBED  by  the  thought  that  his  depar- 
ture was  viewed  with  joy  by  Conrad  and  his 
mother,  Ben  set  out  on  his  Western  journey. 

His  destination  was  Centerville,  in  Western 
Pennsylvania.  I  may  as  well  say  that  this  is 
not  the  real  name  of  the  place,  which,  for  sev- 
eral reasons,  I  conceal. 

Though  Ben  was  not  an  experienced  trav- 
eler, he  found  no  difficulty  in  reaching  his  des- 
tination, having  purchased  a  copy  of  "Apple- 
ton's  Railway  Guide,"  which  afforded  him  all 
the  information  he  required.  About  fifty  miles 
this  side  of  Centerville  he  had  for  seat  com- 
panion a  man  of  middle  age,  with  a  pleasant 
face  covered  with  a  brown  beard,  who,  after 
reading  through  a  Philadelphia  paper  which 
he  had  purchased  of  the  train-boy,  seemed  in- 
clined to  have  a  social  chat  with  Ben. 

"May  I  ask  your  destination,  my  young 
friend?"  he  asked. 

Ben  felt  that  it  was  well  for  him  to  be  cau- 


The    Store    Boy.  189 

tious,  though  he  was  pleasantly  impressed  with 
the  appearance  of  his  companion. 

"I  think  I  shall  stop  over  at  Centerville,"  he 
said. 

"Indeed !     That  is  my  destination." 

"Do  you  live  there?"  asked  Ben. 

"No,"  said  the  other,  laughing.  "Do  I  look 
like  it?  I  thought  you  would  read  'New  York' 
in  my  face  and  manner." 

"I  am  not  an  experienced  observer,"  said 
Ben,  modestly. 

"Centerville  has  a  prosperous  future  before 
it,"  said  the  stranger. 

"Has  it?  I  don't  know  much  about  the 
place.  I  never  was  there." 

"You  know,  of  course,  that  it  is  in  the  oil 
region  ?" 

"I  didn't  even  know  that." 

"A  year  ago,"  resumed  the  stranger,  "it  was 
a  humdrum  farming  town,  and  not  a  very  pros- 
perous one  either.  The  land  is  not  of  good 
quality,  and  the  farmers  found  it  hard  work 
to  get  a  poor  living.  Now  all  is  changed." 

Ben's  attention  was  aroused.  He  began  to 
understand  why  Mr.  Jackson  wished  to  buy 
the  farm  he  rented  from  Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"This  is  all  new  to  me,"  he  said.  "I  suppose 
oil  has  been  found  there?" 

"Yes;  one  old  farm,  which  would  have  been 
dear  at  three  thousand  dollars,  is  now  yield- 
ing hundreds  of  barrels,  daily,  and  would  fetch 
fifty  thousand  dollars  easily." 


190  The    Store    Boy. 

Ben  began  to  be  excited.  If  he  could  only 
sell  Mrs.  Hamilton's  farm  for  half  that  he 
felt  that  he  would  be  doing  an  excellent 
thing. 

"I  suppose  you  are  interested  in  some  of  the 
petroleum  wells?"  he  said. 

"Not  yet,  but  I  hope  to  be.  In  fact,  I  don't 
mind  confessing  that  I  represent  a  New  York 
syndicate,  and  that  my  object  in  making  this 
journey  is  to  purchase,  if  I  can,  the  Jackson 
farm." 

"The  Jackson  farm!"  repeated  Ben,  his 
breath  almost  taken  away  by  his  surprise. 

"Yes;  do  you  know  anything  about  it?" 
asked  his  companion. 

"I  have  heard  of  a  farmer  in  Centerville 
named  Peter  Jackson." 

"That  is  the  man." 

"And  his  farm  is  one  of  the  lucky  ones, 
then?" 

"It  promises  to  be." 

"I  suppose,  then,  you  will  have  to  pay  a 
large  sum  for  it?"  said  Ben,  trying  to  speak 
calmly. 

"Jackson  is  very  coy,  and,  I  think,  grasping. 
He  wants  fifty  thousand  dollars." 

"Of  course  you  won't  pay  as  much  ?" 

"I  should  hardly  feel  authorized  to  do  so. 
Possibly  I  may  go  as  high  as  forty  thousand 
dollars." 

Ben  was  dazzled.  If  he  could  effect  a  sale 
at  this  price  he  would  be  doing  a  splendid 


The    Store    Boy.  19! 

stroke  of  business,  and  would  effectually  de- 
feat the  plans  of  Mr.  Jackson,  who,  it  ap- 
peared, had  pretended  that  he  was  the  owner 
of  the  farm,  hoping  to  obtain  it  from  Mrs. 
Hamilton  at  a  valuation  which  would  have 
been  suitable  before  the  discovery  of  oil,  but 
now  would  be  ludicrously  disproportionate  to 
its  real  value. 

"Shall  I  or  shall  I  not,  tell  this  gentleman 
the  truth?"  he  reflected. 

He  thought  over  the  matter,  and  decided  to 
do  so.  The  discovery  must  be  made  sooner 
or  later,  and  there  would  be  no  advantage  in 
delay. 

"I  don't  think  Jackson  will  sell,"  he  said. 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  stranger,  in  surprise. 
"Do  you  know  him?" 

"I  never  saw  him  in  my  life." 

"Then  how  can  you  form  any  opinion  on 
the  subject?" 

Ben  smiled. 

"The  answer  is  easy  enough,"  he  said.  "Mr. 
Jackson  can't  sell  what  he  doesn't  own." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  he  is  not  the  owner 
of  the  farm  which  he  proposes  to  sell  us?" 

"That  is  just  what  I  mean.  He  is  no  more 
the  owner  than  you  or  I." 

"You  speak  confidently,  young  man.  Per- 
haps you  can  tell  me  who  is  the  owner?" 

"I  can.  The  owner  is  Mrs.  Hamilton,  of 
New  York." 

"Indeed !    That  is  a  genuine  surprise.    Can 


1.92  The    Store    Boy. 

you  give  me  her  address?  I  should  like  to 
communicate  with  her." 

"I  will  cheerfully  give  you  her  address,  but 
it  won't  be  necessary,  for  I  represent  her." 

"You!"  exclaimed  the  stranger,  incredu- 
lously. 

"Yes ;  and  I  am  going  out  to  Centerville  now 
as  her  agent.  This  Jackson,  who  is  her  ten- 
ant, has  been  urging  her  to  sell  him  the  farm 
for  some  time.  He  has  offered  a  sum  larger 
than  the  farm  would  be  worth  but  for  the  dis- 
covery of  petroleum,  but  has  taken  good  care 
not  to  speak  of  this." 

"How  much  does  he  offer?" 

"Five  thousand  dollars." 

"The  rascal!  He  offers  five  thousand,  and 
expects  us  to  pay  him  fifty  thousand  dollars 
for  his  bargain.  What  an  unmitigated  swin- 
dle it  would  have  been  if  he  had  carried  out 
his  scheme!" 

"Perhaps  you  would  like  to  see  his  last  let- 
ter?" said  Ben. 

"I  should.  I  want  to  see  what  the  old  ras- 
cal has  to  say  for  himself." 

Ben  took  from  his  pocket  the  letter  in  ques- 
tion, and  put  it  into  the  hands  of  his  new  ac- 
quaintance. 

It  was  dated  at  Centerville,  October  21.  It 
was  written  in  a  cramped  hand,  showing  that 
the  farmer  was  not  accustomed  to  letter-writ- 
ing. 

It  ran  thus : 


The    Store    Boy.  193 

"KESPECTED  MADAM: 

"As  I  have  already  wrote  you,  I  would  like 
to  buy  the  farm,  and  will  give  you  more  than 
anybody  else,  because  I  am  used  to  living  on 
it,  and  it  seems  like  home.  I  am  willing  to 
pay  five  thousand  dollars,  though  I  know  it 
is  only  worth  four,  but  it  is  worth  more  to 
me  than  to  others.  I  offer  you  more  because 
I  know  you  are  rich,  and  will  not  sell  unless 
you  get  a  good  bargain.  Please  answer  right 
away.  Yours  respectfully, 

"PETER  JACKSON. 

"P.  S. — My  offer  will  hold  good  for  only  two 
weeks." 

"He  seems  to  be  very  much  in  earnest,"  said 
Ben. 

"He  has  reasons  to  be  so,  as  he  hopes  to  make 
forty-five  thousand  dollars  on  his  investment." 

"He  will  be  bitterly  disappointed,"  said  Ben. 

"I  don't  care  anything  about  Jackson,"  said 
the  stranger.  "I  would  just  as  soon  negotiate 
with  you.  Are  you  authorized  to  sell  the 
farm?" 

"No,"  answered  Ben;  "but  Mrs.  Hamilton 
will  probably  be  guided  by  my  advice  in  the 
matter." 

"That  amounts  to  the  same  thing.  I  offer 
you  forty  thousand  dollars  for  it." 

"I  think  favorably  of  your  proposal,  Mr. 

. » 

"My  name  is  Taylor," 


194  The    Store    Boy. 

"Mr.  Taylor;  but  I  prefer  to  delay  answer- 
ing till  I  am  on  the  ground  and  can  judge  bet- 
ter of  the  matter." 

"You  are  right.  I  was  surprised  at  first 
that  Mrs.  Hamilton  should  have  selected  so 
young  an  agent.  I  begin  to  think  her  choice 
was  a  judicious  one." 


The    Store    Boy.  195 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

MR.  JACKSON  RECEIVES  A  CALL. 

"SUPPOSE  we  join  forces,  Ben/'  said  Mr. 
Taylor,  familiarly. 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"We  will  join  forces  against  this  man  Jack- 
son. He  wants  to  swindle  both  of  us — that 
is,  those  whom  we  represent." 

"I  am  willing  to  work  with  you,"  answered 
Ben,  who  had  been  favorably  impressed  by 
the  appearance  and  frankness  of  his  travel- 
ing companion. 

"Then  suppose  to-morrow  morning — it  is 
too  late  to-day — we  call  over  and  see  the  old 
rascal?" 

"I  would  rather  not  have  him  know  on  what 
errand  I  come,  just  at  first." 

"That  is  in  accordance  with  my  own  plans. 
You  will  go  as  my  companion.  He  will  take 
you  for  my  son,  or  nephew,  and,  while  I  am 
negotiating,  you  can  watch  and  judge  for  your- 
self." 

"I  like  the  plan,"  said  Ben. 

"When  he  finds  out  who  you  are  he  will 
feel  pretty  badly  sold." 


196  The    Store    Boy. 

"He  deserves  it." 

The  two  put  up  at  a  country  hotel,  which, 
though  not  luxurious,  was  tolerably  comforta- 
ble. After  the  fatigue  of  his  journey,  Ben 
enjoyed  a  good  supper  and  a  comfortable  bed. 
I'he  evening,  however,  he  spent  in  the  pub- 
lic room  of  the  inn,  where  he  had  a  chance  to 
listen  to  the  conversation  of  a  motley  crowd, 
some  of  them  natives  and  residents,  others 
strangers  who  had  been  drawn  to  Centerville 
by  the  oil  discoveries. 

"I  tell  you,"  said  a  long,  lank  individual, 
"Centerville's  goin'  to  be  one  of  the  smart- 
est places  in  the  United  States.  It's  got  a 
big  future  before  it." 

"That's  so,"  said  a  small,  wiry  man ;  "but 
I'm  not  so  much  interested  in  that  as  I  am 
in  the  question  whether  I've  got  a  big  future 
before  me." 

"You're  one  of  the  owners  of  the  Homan 
farm,  ain't  you?" 

"Yes.  I  wish  I  owned  the  whole  of  it.  Still 
I've  made  nigh  on  to  a  thousand  dollars  durin' 
the  last  month  for  my  share  of  the  profits. 
Pretty  fair,  eh?" 

"I  should  say  so.  You've  got  a  good  pur- 
chase; but  there's  one  better  in  my  opinion." 

"Where's  that?" 

"Peter  Jackson's  farm." 

Here  Ben  and  Mr.  Taylor  began  to  listen 
with  interest. 

"He  hasn't  begun  to  work  it  any,  has  he?" 


The    Store    Boy.  197 

"Not  much,  but  just  enough  to  find  out  its 
value." 

"What's  he  waitin'  for?" 

"There's  some  New  York  people  want  it.  If 
he  can  get  his  price,  he'll  sell  it  to  them  for 
a  good  sum  down." 

"What  does  he  ask?" 

"He  wants  fifty  thousand  dollars." 

"Whew!  that's  rather  stiffish.  I  thought 
the  property  belonged  to  a  lady  in  New  York." 

"So  it  did;  but  Jackson  says  he  bought  it 
a  year  ago." 

"He  was  lucky." 

Ben  and  Mr.  Taylor  looked  at  each  other 
again.  It  was  easy  to  see  the  old  farmer's 
game,  and  to  understand  why  he  was  so  anx- 
ious to  secure  the  farm,  out  of  which  he  could 
make  so  large  a  sum  of  money. 

"He's  playing  a  deep  game,  Ben,"  said  Tay- 
lor, when  they  had  left  the  room. 

"Yes;  but  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  put  a 
spoke  in  his  wheel." 

"I  shall  be  curious  to  see  how  he  takes  it 
when  he  finds  the  negotiation  taken  out  of  his 
hands.  We'll  play  with  him  a  little,  as  a  cat 
plays  with  a  mouse." 

The  next  morning,  after  a  substantial  break- 
fast, Ben  and  his  new  friend  took  a  walk  to 
the  farm  occupied  by  Peter  Jackson.  It  was 
about  half  a  mile  away,  and,  when  reached, 
gave  no  indication  of  the  wealth  it  was  capa- 
ble of  producing.  The  farmhouse  was  a  plain 


198  The    Store    Boy. 

structure  nearly  forty  years  old,  badly  in  need 
of  paint,  and  the  outbuildings  harmonized 
with  it  in  appearance. 

A  little  way  from  the  house  was  a  tall,  gaunt 
man,  engaged  in  mending  a  fence.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  farmer's  blue  frock  and  overalls, 
and  his  gray,  stubby  beard  seemed  to  be  of  a 
week's  growth.  There  was  a  crafty,  greedy 
look  in  his  eyes,  which  overlooked  a  nose  sharp 
and  aquiline.  His  feet  were  incased  in  a  pair 
of  cowhide  boots.  He  looked  inquiringly  at 
Taylor  as  he  approached,  but  hardly  deigned 
to  look  at  Ben,  who  probably  seemed  too  in- 
significant for  notice.  He  gave  a  shrewd 
guess  at  the  errand  of  the  visitor,  but  waited 
for  him  to  speak  first. 

"Is  this  Mr.  Jackson?"  asked  Taylor,  with 
a  polite  bow. 

"That's  my  name,  stranger,"  answered  the 
old  man. 

"My  name  is  Taylor.  I  wrote  to  you  last 
week." 

"I  got  the  letter,"  said  Jackson,  going  on 
with  his  work.  It  was  his  plan  not  to  seem 
too  eager,  but  to  fight  shy  in  order  that  he 
might  get  his  price.  Besides,  though  he  would 
have  been  glad  to  close  the  bargain  on  the  spot, 
there  was  an  embarrassing  difficulty.  The 
farm  was  not  his  to  sell,  and  he  was  anxiously 
awaiting  Mrs.  Hamilton's  answer  to  his  pro- 
posal. 

"She  can't  have  heard  of  the  oil  discoveries/' 


The    Store    Boy.  199 

he  thought,  "and  five  thousand  dollars  will 
seeni  a  big  price  for  the  farm.  She  can't  help 
agreeing  to  my  terms." 

This  consideration  made  him  hopeful,  but 
for  all  that,  he  must  wait,  and  waiting  he 
found  very  tantalizing. 

"Have  you  decided  to  accept  my  offer,  Mr. 
Jackson?" 

"Waal,  I'll  have  to  take  a  leetle  time  to  con- 
sider. How  much  did  you  say  you'd  give?" 

"Forty  thousand  dollars." 

"I'd  ought  to  have  fifty." 

"Forty  thousand  dollars  is  a  big  sum  of 
money." 

"And  this  farm  is  a  perfect  gold  mine. 
Shouldn't  wonder  if  it  would  net  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars." 

"There  is  no  certainty  of  that,  and  the  pur- 
chasers will  have  to  take  a  big  risk." 

"There  isn't  much  risk.  Ask  anybody  in 
Centerville  what  he  thinks  of  the  Jackson 
farm." 

"Suppose  I  were  ready  to  come  to  your  terms 
— mind,  I  don't  say  I  am — would  you  sign 
the  papers  to-day?" 

Jackson  looked  perplexed.  He  knew  he 
could  not  do  it. 

"What's  your  hurry?"  he  said. 

"The  capitalists  whom  I  represent  are  anx- 
ious to  get  to  work  as  soon  as  possible.  That's 
natural,  isn't  it?" 

"Ye-es,"  answered  Jackson, 


aoo  The    Store    Boy. 

"So,  the  sooner  we  fix  matters  the  better. 
I  want  to  go  back  to  New  York  to-morrow  if 
I  can." 

"I  don't  think  I  can  give  my  answer  so 
soon  as  that.  Wait  a  minute,  though." 

A  boy  was  approaching,  Jackson's  son,  if 
one  could  judge  from  the  resemblance,  holding 
a  letter  in  his  hand. 

"Come  right  here,  Abner,"  he  called  out, 
eagerly. 

Abner  approached,  and  his  father  snatched 
the  letter  from  his  hand.  It  bore  the  New 
York  postmark,  but,  on  opening  it,  Jackson 
looked  bitterly  disappointed.  He  had  hoped 
it  was  from  Mrs.  Hamilton,  accepting  his  of- 
fer for  the  farm;  but,  instead  of  that,  it  was 
an  unimportant  circular. 

"I'll  have  to  take  time  to  think  over  your 
offer,  Mr.  Taylor,"  he  said.  "You  see,  I'll 
have  to  talk  over  matters  with  the  old  woman." 

"By  the  way,"  said  Taylor,  carelessly,  "I 
was  told  in  the  village  that  you  didn't  own 
the  farm — that  it  was  owned  by  a  lady  in 
New  York." 

"She  used  to  own  it,"  said  the  farmer,  un- 
easily; "but  I  bought  it  off  her  a  year  ago." 

"So  that  you  have  a  right  to  sell  it?" 

"Of  course  I  have." 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  that,  Ben?"  asked 
Taylor,  quietly. 

"That  if  Mrs.  Hamilton  has  sold  the  farm 
to  Mr.  Jackson  she  doesn't  know  it." 


The    Store    Boy.  201 

"What  do  you  mean,  boy?"  gasped  Jackson. 

"I  mean  that  when  I  left  New  York  Mrs. 
Hamilton  owned  the  farm." 

"It's  a  lie!"  muttered  the  farmer;  but  he 
spoke  with  difficulty.  "I  bought  it  a  year 
ago." 

"In  that  case  it  is  strange  that  you  should 
have  written  a  week  ago  offering  five  thou- 
sand dollars  for  the  farm." 

"Who  says  I  wrote?" 

"I  do ;  and  I  have  your  letter  in  my  pocket,* 
answered  Ben,  firmly. 


202  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

BEN     SELLS     THE     FARM. 

THE  farmer  stared  at  Ben  panic-stricken. 
He  had  thought  success  within  his  grasp.  He 
was  to  be  a  rich  man — independent  for  life 
— as  the  result  of  the  trick  which  he  was  play- 
ing upon  Mrs.  Hamilton.  His  disappoint- 
ment was  intense,  and  he  looked  the  picture 
of  discomfiture. 

"I  don't  believe  you,"  he  faltered  after  a 
pause. 

Ben  drew  a  letter  from  his  inside  pocket  and 
held  it  up. 

"Do  you  deny  the  writing?"  he  said. 

"Give  it  to  me!"  said  Jackson,  with  a  sud- 
den movement. 

"No,  thank  you ;  I  prefer  to  keep  it.  I  shall 
make  no  use  of  it  unless  it  is  necessary.  I 
called  here  to  notify  you  that  Mrs.  Hamilton 
does  not  propose  to  sacrifice  the  farm.  If  it 
is  sold  at  all  it  will  be  to  some  one  who  will 
pay  its  full  value." 

"You  can't  sell  it,"  said  Jackson,  sullenly. 
"I  have  a  lease." 


The    Store    Boy.  203 

"Produce  it." 

"At  any  rate,  I  shall  stay  till  my  year's  out." 

"That  will  depend  upon  the  new  owner.  If 
he  is  willing,  Mrs.  Hamilton  will  not  object." 

"I  think  you've  got  him  there,  Ben,"  said  Mr. 
Taylor,  with  a  laugh.  "Mr.  Jackson,  I  think 
it  won't  be  worth  while  to  continue  our  con- 
versation. You  undertook  to  sell  what  was 
not  yours.  I  prefer  to  deal  with  the  real  owner 
or  her  representative." 

"That  boy  is  an  impostor!"  muttered  Jack- 
son. "Why,  he's  only  a  schoolboy.  What 
does  he  know  about  business?" 

"I  think  he  has  proved  a  match  for  you. 
Good-morning,  Mr.  Jackson.  Ben,  let  us  be 
going. 

"Now,"  said  Taylor,  as  they  were  walking 
toward  the  inn,  "what  do  you  say  to  my  of- 
fer?" 

"Please  state  it,  Mr.  Taylor." 

"I  offer  forty  thousand  dollars  for  the  farm. 
It  may  be  worth  considerably  more  than  that ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  wells  may  soon 
run  dry.  I  have  to  take  the  chances." 

"That  seems  a  fair  offer,  Mr.  Taylor,"  said 
Ben,  frankly.  "If  I  were  the  owner  I  would 
accept  it;  but  I  am  acting  for  another  who 
may  not  think  as  I  do." 

"Will  you  consult  her  and  let  me  know?" 

"I  will  write  at  once." 

"Why  not  telegraph?  The  delay  would  be 
too  great  if  you  trust  to  the  mail?' 


204  The    Store    Boy. 

"I  will  do'  as  you  suggest,"  answered  Ben, 
"if  there  is  an  opportunity  to  telegraph  from 
this  place." 

"There  is  an  office  at  the  depot." 

"Then  I  will  take  that  on  my  way  back 
to  the  hotel." 

At  one  corner  of  the  depot  Ben  found  a  tel- 
egraph operator.  After  a  little  consideration, 
he  dashed  off  the  following  telegram : 

"No.  —  MADISON  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK. 
"To  MRS.  HAMILTON: 

"Oil  has  been  discovered  on  your  farm.  I 
am  offered  forty  thousand  dollars  for  it  by 
a  responsible  party.  What  shall  I  do? 

"BEN  BARCLAY." 

"Send  answer  to  the  hotel,"  said  Ben,  to  the 
operator. 

Four  hours  later  a  messenger  brought  to  Ben 
the  following  dispatch : 

"Your  news  is  most  surprising.  Sell  at  the 
figure  named  if  you  think  it  best.  You  have 
full  powers.  HELEN  HAMILTON." 

Mr.  Taylor  watched  Ben's  face  eagerly  as 
he  read  the  telegram,  for  he  knew  that  it  must 
relate  to  his  offer. 

"What  does  your  principal  say?"  he  in-, 
quired. 

"You  can  read  the  telegram,  Mr.  Taylor." 


The    Store    Boy.  205 

Taylor  did  so. 

"So  you  have  full  powers?"  he  said.  "Mrs. 
Hamilton  must  feel  great  confidence  in  you." 

There  was  a  proud  flush  on  Ben's  cheek  as 
he  replied : 

"I  have  reason  to  think  that  she  does.  I 
hope  it  is  not  misplaced." 

"I  hope  you  won't  drive  a  hard  bargain  with 
me,  Ben." 

"I  don't  mean  to  bargain  at  all.  You  have 
made  a  fair  offer,  and  I  will  accept  it." 

Taylor  looked  pleased. 

"Some  boys  in  your  position,"  he  said, 
"would  have  stipulated  for  a  present." 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Ben, 
promptly.  "I  should  not  think  it  honest." 

"Your  honesty,  my  boy,  is  of  the  old-fash- 
ioned kind.  It  is  not  the  kind  now  in  vogue. 
I  like  you  the  better  for  it,  and  if  you  were 
not  in  Mrs.  Hamilton's  employ  I  would  try 
to  secure  your  services  myself." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Taylor.  The  time  may 
come  when  I  shall  remind  you  of  your  prom- 
ise." 

"You  will  find  I  have  not  forgotten  it.  And 
now  to  business.  We  will  go  to  a  lawyer  and 
have  the  necessary  papers  drawn  up,  which 
you  shall  sign  in  behalf  of  your  principal." 

The  business  was  speedily  arranged,  and  by 
supper-time  Ben  found  that  he  had  nothing 
further  to  detain  him  in  Centerville.  He  felt 
that  he  had  done  a  smart  stroke  of  business. 


206  The    Store    Boy. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  had  been  surprised  at  receiv- 
ing an  offer  of  five  thousand  dollars  for  the 
farm,  yet  he  had  sold  it  for  forty  thousand ! 

As  they  were  returning  from  the  lawyer's 
office  they  met  Farmer  Jackson  just  return- 
ing from  the  post  office. 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Jackson,"  said  Taylor, 
"you  will  perhaps  be  interested  to  learn  that 
your  farm  has  been  sold." 

The  farmer  paused,  and  a  troubled  look 
appeared  upon  his  face. 

"Are  you  going  to  turn  me  out  of  fhe  house?" 
he  asked. 

"Not  if  you  wish  to  live  in  it.  I  shall  em- 
ploy workmen  at  once  to  sink  wells,  and  de- 
velop the  property.  They  will  need  to  board 
somewhere.  Are  you  willing  to  board  them?" 

"Yes;  I  shall  be  glad  to,"  answered  Jackson. 
"I  am  a  poor  man,  and  it's  hard  work  to  make 
a  living  by  farming." 

"Very  well;  we  can  no  doubt  make  an  ar- 
rangement. I  am  obliged  to  go  to  New  York 
to  complete  arrangements  for  the  transfer  of 
the  property,  but  I  shall  come  back  as  soon  as 
possible  and  commence  operations." 

"I  wouldn't  mind  workin'  for  you  myself," 
said  Jackson. 

"Then  you  are  the  first  man  I  engage." 

The  old  farmer  brightened  up.  He  was  to 
make  money  out  of  the  new  discoveries  after 
all,  though  not  in  the  way  he  had  contemplated. 


The    Store    Boy.  207 

"When  are  you  going  back  to  New  York, 
Ben?"  asked  Taylor. 

"There  is  nothing  to  detain  me  here  any 
longer." 

"We  can  go  back  together,  then." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  travel  in  your  company, 
sir." 

"Do  you  expect  to  remain  in  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton's employ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Ben. 

"What  were  you  doing?" 

"Keeping  accounts  and  acting  as  her  pri- 
vate secretary." 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

"Yes;  I  find  it  very  pleasant,  or  would  but 
for  one  thing." 

"What  is  that?" 

"She  has  relatives  living  in  the  house  who 
do  not  like  me." 

"Jealous,  eh?" 

"Perhaps  so." 

"Let  me  say  frankly,  that  you  are  fitted  for 
something  higher,  I  am  a  good  judge  of 


Ben  smiled. 

"Boys,  then;  and  I  consider  you  a  boy  of 
excellent  business  capacity.  After  I  have  got 
my  oil  wells  under  way,  I  should  like  to  en- 
gage you  as  superintendent." 

"I  am  flattered  by  your  good  opinion,  Mr. 
Taylor,  but  it  is  a  business  I  know  nothing 
of." 


2o8  The    Store    Boy. 

"You  would  make  it  your  business  to  learn 
it,  or  I  mistake  you." 

"You  are  right  there,  sir." 

"However,  there  will  be  plenty  of  time  to 
arrange  about  this  matter.  It  would  proba- 
bly be  two  months  before  I  felt  justified  in 
leaving  another  in  charge." 

The  two  started  for  New  York.  About  fifty 
miles  before  reaching  the  city,  as  Ben  was 
reading  a  magazine  he  had  purchased  from  the 
train-boy,  he  felt  a  touch  upon  his  shoulder. 

Looking  up,  he  recognized,  to  his  amazement, 
the  tramp  with  whom  he  had  had  an  adven- 
ture some  weeks  before  in  Pentonville. 

"I  see  you  know  me,"  said  the  tramp,  with  a 
smile. 


The    Store    Boy.  209 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

GOOD  NEWS. 

THE  tramp,  as  we  may  call  him  for  want  of 
a  different  name,  certainly  showed  signs  of 
improvement  in  his  personal  appearance.  He 
looked  quite  respectable,  in  fact,  in  a  business 
suit  of  gray  mixed  cloth,  and  would  have 
passed  muster  in  any  assemblage. 

"I  think  I  have  met  you  before,"  answered 
Ben,  with  a  smile. 

"Perhaps  it  would  have  been  more  of  a  com- 
pliment not  to  recognize  me.  I  flattered  my- 
self that  I  had  changed." 

"So  you  have,  and  for  the  better." 

"Thank  you.  I  believe  we  rode  together 
when  we  last  met?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ben. 

"And  you  were  not  sorry  to  part  company 
with  me — is  it  not  so?" 

"I  won't  contradict  you." 

"Yet  I  am  inclined  to  be  your  friend." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Ben,  politely,  though, 


210  The    Store    Boy. 

truth  to  tell,  lie  did  not  anticipate  any  par- 
ticular benefit  to  accrue  from  the  acquaintance 
of  the  speaker. 

"I  see  you  don't  attach  much  importance 
to  my  offer  of  friendship.  Yet  I  can  do  you 
an  important  service." 

Mr.  Taylor,  who  had  been  occupying  a  seat 
with  Ben,  here  arose. 

"You  have  something  to  say  to  my  young 
friend,"  he  said.  "Take  my  seat." 

"Don't  let  me  deprive  you  of  it,"  said  the 
other,  with  a  politeness  Ben  had  not  deemed 
him  capable  of. 

"By  no  means.  I  am  going  into  the  smok- 
ing-car to  smoke  a  cigar.  Ben,  I  will  be  back 
soon." 

"I  didn't  expect  to  meet  you  so  far  from  Pen- 
tonville,"  said  Ben's  new  companion,  unable 
to  suppress  his  curiosity. 

"I  don't  live  in  Pentonville  now." 

"Where  then?" 

"In  the  city  of  New  York." 

"Are  you  employed  there?" 

"Yes;  but  I  am  just  returning  from  a  trip 
to  Western  Pennsylvania." 

"Did  you  go  on  business?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  you  are  getting  on,  for  a  country  boy. 
What  do  you  hear  from  home?" 

"My  mother  is  well,  but  I  fancy  that  is  not 
what  you  mean." 

"Yes,  I  am  interested  about  your  mother. 


The    Store    Boy.  2H 

Has  she  yet  paid  off  that  mortgage  on  her  cot- 
tage?" 

"How  did  you  know  there  was  a  mortgage?" 
asked  Ben,  in  surprise. 

"I  know  more  than  you  suppose.  What  are 
the  chances  that  she  will  be  able  to  pay?" 

"They  are  very  small,"  answered  Ben, 
gravely ;  "but  the  money  is  not  yet  due." 

"When  will  it  be  due?"' 

"In  about  six  weeks." 

"Squire  Davenport  will  foreclose — I  know 
him  well  enough  for  that." 

"So  I  suppose,"  said  Ben,  soberly. 

"Is  there  no  friend  who  will  oblige  you  with 
the  money?" 

"I  don't  know  of  any  one  I  should  feel  at 
liberty  to  call  on." 

It  came  into  his  mind  that  Mrs.  Hamilton 
was  abundantly  able  to  help  them,  but  she  did 
not  know  his  mother,  and  it  would  savor  of 
presumption  for  him  to  ask  so  great  a  favor. 
True,  he  had  effected  a  most  profitable  sale 
for  her,  but  that  was  only  in  the  line  of  his 
faithful  duty,  and  gave  him  no  claim  upon 
his  employer. 

"I  thought  perhaps  the  gentleman  you  were 
traveling  with — -the  one  who  has  gone  into  the 
smoking-car — might " 

"He  is  only  a  business  acquaintance ;  I  have 
known  him  less  than  a  week." 

"To  be  sure,  that  alters  matters.  He  is  not 
your  employer,  then?" 


212  The    Store    Boy. 

"No." 

"Then  I  believe  I  shall  have  to  help  vou  my- 
self." 

Ben  stared  at  his  companion  in  amazement. 
What!  this  man,  who  had  robbed  him  of  a 
dollar  only  four  weeks  before,  to  offer  assist- 
ance in  so  important  a  matter! 

"I  suppose  you  are  joking,"  said  he,  after 
a  pause. 

"Joking!  Far  from  it.  I  mean  just  what 
I  say.  If  Squire  Davenport  undertakes  to  de- 
prive your  mother  of  her  home,  I  will  inter- 
fere, and,  you  will  see,  with  effect." 

"Would  you  mind  explaining  to  me  how  you 
would  help  us?"  asked  Ben. 

"Yes,  in  confidence,  it  being  understood  that 
I  follow  my  own  course  in  the  matter." 

"That  is  fair  enough." 

"Suppose  I  tell  you,  then,  that  Squire  Daven- 
port (I  believe  that  is  the  title  he  goes  by  in 
your  village)  owes  your  mother  more  than 
the  amount  of  the  mortgage." 

"Is  this  true?"  ejaculated  Ben,  very  much 
surprised. 

"It  is  quite  true." 

"But  how  can  it  be?" 

"Your  father,  at  his  death,  held  a  note  of 
Davenport's  for  a  thousand  dollars — money 
which  he  had  placed  in  his  hands — a  note  bear- 
ing six  per  cent,  interest." 

Ben  was  more  and  more  surprised;  at  first 
he  was  elated,  then  depressed. 


The    Store    Boy.  213 

"It  will  do  me  no  good/'  he  said;  "nothing 
was  found  at  father's  death,  and  the  note  is 
no  doubt  destroyed." 

"So  Squire  Davenport  thinks/'  said  his  com- 
panion, quietly. 

"But  isn't  it  true?" 

"No;  that  note  not  only  is  in  existence,  but 
I  know  where  to  lay  my  hands  on  it." 

"Then  it  will  more  than  offset  the  mort- 
gage?" said  Ben,  joyfully. 

"I  should  say.  No  interest  has  been  paid 
on  the  note  for  more  than  five  years.  The 
amount  due  must  be  quite  double  the  amount 
of  the  mortgage." 

"How  can  I  thank  you  for  this  informa- 
tion?" said  Ben.  "We  shall  not  be  forced  to 
give  up  our  little  cottage,  after  all.  But  how 
could  Squire  Davenport  so  wickedly  try  to 
cheat  us  of  our  little  property?" 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  the  tramp,  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  "your  question  savors  of  ver- 
dancy. Learn  that  there  is  no  meanness  too 
great  to  be  inspired  by  the  love  of  money." 

"But  Squire  Davenport  was  already  rich." 

"And  for  that  reason  he  desired  to  become 
richer." 

"When  shall  we  go  to  see  the  squire  and  tell 
him  about  the  note?" 

"I  prefer  that  you  should  wait  till  the  day 
the  mortgage  comes  due.  When  is  that?" 

"On  the  twentieth  of  December." 

"Then  on  the  nineteenth  of  December  we  will 


214  The    Store    Bey. 

both  go  to  Pentonville  and  wait  till  the  squire 
shows  his  hand." 

"You  seem  to  be — excuse  nie — in  better  cir- 
cumstances than  when  we  last  met." 

"I  am.  An  old  uncle  of  mine  died  last 
month,  and  considerately  left  me  ten  thousand 
dollars.  Perhaps  if  he  had  known  more  about 
my  way  of  life  he  would  have  found  another 
heir.  It  has  led  me  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf, 
and  henceforth  I  am  respectable,  as  befits  a 
man  of  property.  I  even  keep  a  cardcase." 

He  drew  out  a  cardcase  and  handed  a  card 
to  Ben,  who  surveyed  it  with  curiosity.  It 
bore  the  name  of  Harvey  Dinsmore. 

"Mr.  Dinsmore,"  said  our  young  hero,  "I 
rejoice  at  your  good  fortune." 

"Thank  you.     Shall  we  be  friends?" 

"With  pleasure." 

"Then  I  have  more  good  news  for  you.  Your 
father  owned  twenty-five  shares  in  a  Western 
railway.  These  shares  are  selling  at  par,  and  a 
year's  dividends  are  due." 

"Why,  we  shall  be  rich,"  said  Ben,  fairly  daz- 
zled by  this  second  stroke  of  good  fortune. 

"I  hope  so ;  though  this  .  is  only  a  begin- 
ning." 

"How  can  we  prove  that  the  railway  shares 
belong  to  us?" 

"Leave  that  to  me.  On  the  nineteenth  of 
December  you  will  meet  me  at  Pentonville. 
Till  then  we  probably  shall  not  meet." 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Taylor  made  his  appear- 


The    Store    Boy.  215 

ance,  returning  from  the  smoking-car,  and 
Harvey  Dinsmore  left  them. 

"Well,  Ben,  has  your  friend  entertained 
you?"  asked  Taylor. 

"He  has  told  me  some  very  good  news." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it." 

In  due  time  they  reached  New  York,  and 
Ben  started  uptown  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton. 


2i6  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTEE  XXXIV. 

CONRAD  GOES  INTO  WALL  STREET. 

WHEN  Conrad  succeeded  Ben  as  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton's private  secretary,  he  was  elated  by  what 
he  considered  his  promotion.  His  first  disap- 
pointment came  when  he  learned  that  his  sal- 
ary was  to  be  but  five  dollars  a  week.  He  did 
not  dare  to  remonstrate  with  his  employer, 
but  he  expressed  himself  freely  to  his  mother. 

"Cousin  Hamilton  might  afford  to  pay  me 
more  than  five  dollars  a  week,"  he  said,  bit- 
terly. 

"It  is  small,"  said  his  mother,  cautiously, 
"but  we  must  look  to  the  future." 

"If  you  mean  till  Cousin  Hamilton  dies,  it 
may  be  twenty  or  thirty  years.  Why,  she 
looks  healthier  than  you,  mother,  and  will 
probably  live  longer." 

Mrs.  Hill  looked  grave.  She  did  not  fancy 
this  speech. 

"I  don't  think  we  shall  have  to  wait  so  long," 
she  said.  "When  you  are  twenty-one  Cousin 
Hamilton  will  probably  do  something  for  you." 


The    Store    Boy.  217 

"That's  almost  five  years,"  grumbled  Con- 
rad. 

"At  any  rate  we  have  got  Ben  Barclay  out 
of  the  house,  that's  one  comfort." 

"Yes,  I  am  glad  of  that;  but  I'd  rather  be 
in  my  old  place  than  this,  if  I  am  to  get  only 
five  dollars  a  week." 

"Young  people  are  so  impatient,"  sighed 
Mrs.  Hill.  "You  don't  seem  to  consider  that 
it  isn't  alone  taking  Ben's  place,  but  you  have 
got  rid  of  a  dangerous  rival  for  the  inherit- 
ance." 

"That's  true,"  said  Conrad,  "and  I  bated 
Ben.  I'd  rather  any  other  boy  would  cut  me 
out  than  he." 

"Do  you  know  what  has  become  of  him?" 

"No;  I  expect  that  he  has  gone  back  to 
the  country — unless  he's  blacking  boots  or  sell- 
ing papers  downtown  somewhere.  By  Jove, 
I'd  like  to  come  across  him  with  a  blacking- 
brush.  He  used  to  put  on  such  airs.  I  would 
like  to  have  heard  Cousin  Hamilton  give  him 
the  grand  bounce." 

Nothing  could  be  more  untrue  than  that  Ben 
put  on  airs,  but  Conrad  saw  him  through  the 
eyes  of  prejudice,  and  persuaded  himself  that 
such  was  the  fact.  In  reality,  Ben  was  ex- 
ceedingly modest  and  unassuming,  and  it  was 
this,  among  other  things,  that  pleased  Mrs. 
Hamilton. 

Conrad  continued  to  find  his  salary  insuf- 
ficient. He  was  still  more  dissatisfied  after  an 


2i8  The    Store    Boy. 

interview  with  one  of  his  school  companions, 
a  boy  employed  in  a  Wall  Street  broker's  of- 
fice. 

He  was  just  returning  from  an  errand  on 
which  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  sent  him,  when  he 
overtook  Fred  Lathrop  on  his  way  uptown. 

The  attention  of  Conrad  was  drawn  to  a 
heavy  gold  ring  with  a  handsome  stone  on 
Fred's  finger. 

"Where  did  you  get  that  ring?"  asked  Con- 
rad, who  had  himself  a  fancy  for  rings. 

"Bought  it  in  Maiden  Lane.  How  do  you 
like  it?" 

"It  is  splendid.  Do  you  mind  telling  me 
how  much  you  paid?" 

"I  paid  forty-five  dollars.    It's  worth  more." 

"Forty-five  dollars!"  ejaculated  Conrad. 
"Why,  you  must  be  a  millionaire.  Where 
did  you  get  so  much  money?" 

"I  didn't  find  it  in  the  street,"  answered 
Fred,  jocularly. 

"Can't  you  tell  a  feller?  You  didn't  save 
it  out  of  your  wages,  did  you?" 

"My  wages?  I  should  say  not.  Why,  I  only 
get  six  dollars  a  week,  and  have  to  pay  car- 
fare and  lunches  out  of  that." 

"Then  it  isn't  equal  to  my  five  dollars,  for 
that  is  all  clear.  But,  all  the  same,  I  can't 
save  anything." 

"Nor  I." 

"Then  how  can  you  afford  to  buy  forty-five- 
dollar  rings?" 


The    Store    Boy.  219 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you,"  said  Fred.  "I 
made  the  money  by  speculating." 

"Speculating!"  repeated  Conrad,  still  in  the 
dark. 

"Yes.     I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

"Do !  there's  a  good  fellow." 

"You  see,  I  bought  fifty  Erie  shares  on  a 
margin." 

"How's  that?" 

"Why,  I  got  a  broker  to  buy  me  fifty  shares 
on  a  margin  of  one  per  cent.  He  did  it  to 
oblige  me.  I  hadn't  any  money  to  put  up,  but 
I  had  done  him  one  or  two  favors,  and  he  did 
it  out  of  good  nature.  As  the  stock  was  on 
the  rise,  he  didn't  run  much  of  a  risk.  Well, 
I  bought  at  44  and  sold  at  45J.  So  I  made 
fifty  dollars  over  and  above  the  commission. 
I  tell  you  I  felt  good  when  the  broker  paid 
me  over  five  ten-dollar  bills." 

"I  should  think  you  \vould." 

"I  was  afraid  I'd  spend  the  money  foolishly, 
so  I  went  right  off  and  bought  this  ring.  I 
can  sell  it  for  what  I  gave  any  time." 

Conrad's  cupidity  was  greatly  excited  by 
this  remarkable  luck  of  Fred's. 

"That  seems  an  easy  way  of  making  money," 
he  said.  "Do  you  think  I  could  try  it?" 

"Anybody  can  do  it  if  he's  got  the  money 
to  plank  down  for  a  margin." 

"I  don't  think  I  quite  understand." 

"Then  I'll  tell  you.  You  buy  fifty  shares 
of  stock,  costing,  say,  fifty  dollars  a  share." 


220  The    Store    Boy. 

"That  would  be  twenty-five  hundred  dol- 
lars." 

"Yes,  if  you  bought  it  right  out.  But  you 
don't.  You  give  the  broker  whatever  per  cent, 
he  requires,  say  a  dollar  a  share  (most  of  them 
don't  do  it  so  cheap),  and  he  buys  the  stock 
on  your  account.  If  it  goes  up  one  or  two 
points,  say  to  fifty-one  or  fifty-two,  he  sells 
out,  and  the  profit  goes  to  you,  deducting  twen- 
ty-five cents  a  share,  which  he  charges  for 
buying  and  selling.  Besides  that  he  pays  you 
back  your  margin." 

"That's  splendid.  But  doesn't  it  ever  go 
down?" 

"I  should  say  so.  If  it  goes  down  a  dollar 
a  share,  then,  of  course,  you  lose  fifty  dollars." 

Conrad  looked  serious.  This  was  not  quite 
so  satisfactory. 

"It  is  rather  risky  then,"  he  said. 

"Of  course  there's  some  risk ;  but  you  know 
the  old  proverb,  'Nothing  venture,  nothing 
have.'  You  must  choose  the  right  stock — one 
that  is  going  up." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  stock,"  said 
Conrad. 

"I  do,"  said  Fred.  "If  I  had  money  I  know 
what  I'd  buy." 

"What?"  asked  Conrad,  eagerly. 

"Pacific  Mail." 

"Do  you  think  that's  going  up?" 

"I  feel  sure  of  it.     I  overheard  my  boss  and 


The    Store    Boy.  221 

another  broker  talking  about  it  yesterday,  and 
they  both  predicted  a  bull  movement  in  it." 

"Does  that  mean  it's  going  up?" 

"To  be  sure." 

"I  should  like  to  buy  some." 

"Have  you  got  money  to  plank  down  as  a 
margin?" 

Conrad  had  in  his  pocketbook  fifty  dollars, 
which  he  had  collected  for  Mrs.  Hamilton,  be- 
ing a  month's  rent  on  a  small  store  on  Third 
Avenue.  It  flashed  upon  him  that  with  this 
money  he  could  make  fifty  dollars  for  himself, 
and  be  able  to  pay  back  the  original  sum  to 
Mrs.  Hamilton  as  soon  as  the  operation  was 
concluded. 

"Could  you  manage  it  for  me,  Fred?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes,  I  wouldn't  mind." 

"Then  I'll  give  you  fifty  dollars,  and  you 
do  the  best  you  can  for  me.  If  I  succeed  I'll 
make  you  a  present." 

"All  right.     I  hope  you'll  win,  I  am  sure." 

Not  giving  himself  time  to  think  of  the  se- 
rious breach  of  trust  he  was  committing,  Con- 
rad took  the  money  from  his  pocket  and  trans- 
ferred it  to  his  companion. 

"It  won't  take  long,  will  it?"  he  asked,  anx- 
iously. 

"Very  likely  the  stock  will  be  bought  and 
sold  to-morrow." 

"That  will  be  splendid.  You'll  let  me  know 
right  off?" 


222  The    Store    Boy. 

"Yes;  I'll  attend  to  that." 

Conrad  went  home  and  reported  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton  that  the  tenant  had  not  paid,  but 
would  do  so  on  Saturday. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  was  a  little  surprised,  for 
the  Third  Avenue  tenant  had  never  before  put 
her  off.  Something  in  Conrad's  manner  ex- 
cited her  suspicion,  and  she  resolved  the  next 
day  to  call  herself  on  Mr.  Clark,  the  tenant. 
He  would  be  likely  to  speak  of  the  postpone- 
ment;  and  give  reasons  for  it. 


The    Store    Boy.  223 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 
CONRAD'S    BAD    LUCK. 

THE  next  day  Mrs.  Hamilton  called  upon 
her  tenant  in  Third  Avenue. 

"How  is  business  with  you,  Mr.  Clark?"  she 
asked,  after  purchasing  some  small  article. 

"Very  good,"  he  answered,  cheerfully. 

"And  you  are  always  in  funds  to  meet  your 
liabilities?" 

"Yes;  I  am  very  particular  about  that." 

"By  the  way,  did  Conrad — my  young  agent 
— give  you  a  receipt  yesterday  for  the  rent?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  storekeeper,  somewhat 
surprised,  for  he  could  not  understand  the 
motive  of  the  question. 

"Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  show  it  to  me?" 

Mr.  Clark  went  to  his  desk,  and,  after 
a  brief  search,  returned  with  a  receipt  signed 
by  Conrad  for  her. 

"Is  there  anything  wrong  about  it?"  asked 
the  storekeeper. 

"By  no  means.  I  merely  wanted  to  satisfy 
myself  upon  one  point." 

But  what  this  point  was  she  didn't  explain. 


224  The    Store    Boy. 

"This  looks  serious,"  reflected  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton, gravely.  "The  boy  must  have  formed  bad 
habits.  It  is  clear  that  he  can  not  be  depended 
upon.  He  is  foolishly  throwing  his  chances 
away." 

When  Mrs.  Hamilton  returned  she  did  not 
immediately  speak  to  Conrad  about  her  discov- 
ery. She  waited  for  further  developments. 
He  had  assured  her  that  the  rent  would  be 
paid  on  Saturday,  and  till  Saturday  she  would 
wait.  If  it  were  only  delay, -his  fault  would 
not  be  so  great. 

But  circumstances  prevented  Conrad's  keep- 
ing his  promise.  On  Friday  morning,  about 
nine  o'clock,  he  found  a  letter  on  the  table 
in  the  hall.  He  could  see  by  the  firm  mark 
in  the  corner  that  it  was  from  Bird  &  Brant, 
bankers  and  brokers. 

This  was  the  tenor:  He  was  notified  that, 
in  accordance  with  his  instructions,  they  had 
purchased  fifty  shares  of  Pacific  Mail  at  43. 
It  had  fallen  to  42,  and  they  had  sold  it  to 
avoid  further  loss.  This  had  exhausted  his 
margin,  and  he  was  left  indebted  to  them  in 
the  sum  of  $12.50,  commission  for  buying  and 
selling,  which  he  was  requested  to  forward  at 
once. 

Conrad  read  this  letter  with  pale  cheeks  and 
sinking  heart.  He  was  in  a  terrible  scrape. 
How  was  he  to  make  up  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  the 
money  he  had  appropriated,  not  to  mention 
the  sum  which  he  owed  the  brokers? 


The    Store    Boy.  225 

"Fred  told  me  it  was  sure  to  go  up,"  he 
groaned.  "I  wouldn't  have  speculated  but  for 
that.  He  ought  at  any  rate  to  pay  the  twelve 
dollars  and  a  half." 

He  chanced  to  meet  Fred  in  the  afternoon. 

"You've  got  me  into  a  pretty  scrape,"  he 
said. 

"How  is  that?" 

"I  bought  Pacific  Mail  and  it  went  down." 

"Even  the  oldest  operators  are  liable  to  be 
mistaken,"  said  Fred.  "I  had  the  point  from 
two  experienced  brokers.  But  you  see  Keene, 
or  Jay  Gould,  or  some  of  those  big  fellow^ 
stepped  in  and  upset  the  market." 

"It's  awfully  serious  for  me,"  said  Conrad, 
gloomily.  "The  money  didn't  belong  to  me. 
I  thought  I  was  sure  to  make,  and  so  I  risked 
it." 

"I'm  sorry,  but  I  would  have  risked  the  pur- 
chase myself  if  I  had  had  the  money,"  said 
Fred. 

"I  think  you  ought  to  pay  the  brokers'  com- 
mission, since  you  led  me  into  it." 

"I  don't,"  answered  Fred,  emphatically.  "I 
gave  you  the  advice  for  what  it  was  worth." 

"I  can't  pay  Bird  &  Brant.  I  haven't  a  dol- 
lar." 

"I'll  get  them  to  wait  a  week.  You  must 
raise  it  somehow  in  that  time." 

"That'll  be  something,"  said  Conrad,  re- 
lieved. "Something  may  turn  up  in  that 
time." 


226  The    Store    Boy. 

On  Saturday  he  went  to  Mrs.  Uamilton  with 
a  sober  face. 

"Cousin  Hamilton,"  he  said,  "I  want  to 
make  a  confession." 

"What  is  it,  Conrad?" 

"Mr.  Clark  did  pay  me  that  money  on 
Wednesday." 

"Why  didn't  you  pay  it  over  to  me  then?" 

"Because  my  pocket  was  picked  on  my  way 
from  Third  Avenue.  I  thought  I  had  a  clew 
to  the  pickpocket,  and  might  recover  the 
money,  but  I  have  failed.  I  am  awfully  sorry." 

"Can  this  be  true?"  thought  Mrs.  Hamilton. 
"If  Ben  told  me  this  story  I  would  believe 
him,  but  Conrad  does  not  inspire  my  con- 
fidence." 

"Do  you  blame  me  very  much,  Cousin  Ham- 
ilton?" asked  Conrad. 

"I  think  you  must  have  been  careless.  I 
will  reflect  upon  what  you  have  told  me,  and 
speak  with  you  on  the  subject  hereafter." 

"So  far,  so  good!"  thought  Conrad.  "She 
believes  the  story.  She  won't  trouble  me  for 
the  money.  Now  if  I  can  only  raise  twelve 
dollars  and  a  half  for  the  brokers." 

Some  days  passed,  and  Conrad  heard  noth- 
ing about  his  unfortunate  loss.  He  began  to 
think  that  he  would  escape  detection.  He 
chanced  to  be  out  when  the  postman  brought 
another  letter  from  Bird  &  Brant.  As  Mrs. 
Hamilton  was  passing  through  the  hall  she 
saw  it. 


The    Store    Boy.  227 

"What  can  Conrad  have  to  do  with  Wall 
Street  brokers  ?"  she  asked  herself.  "I  will 
take  care  of  this  letter,  and  speak  to  him  about 
it." 

In  the  afternoon  she  was  out  shopping  and 
Conrad  was  at  home,  when  the  bell  rang.  Hav- 
ing some  curiosity,  he  watched  in  the  hall  while 
the  servant  was  answering  the  bell. 

"Why,  Master  Ben,  have  you  come  back?" 
he  heard  the  girl  say. 

"Is  it  possible  that  boy  has  the  cheek  to 
come  back?"  he  said  to  himself.  "I'll  soon 
turn  him  right  about." 

Ben  was  already  in  the  hall,  when  Conrad 
walked  up  to  him,  and  said,  haughtily  and  in- 
solently : 

"What  brings  you  back  here,  Ben  Barclay?" 

"Business,"  answered  Ben,  briefly.  "Is  Mrs. 
Hamilton  at  home?" 

"No,  she  isn't." 

"Then  I  must  wait  till  she  returns,"  and. 
Ben  quietly  placed  his  hat  on  the  hatstand. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  but  you  had  better  go 
away." 

"Why  should  I?"  asked  Ben,  calmly. 

"Mrs.  Hamilton  doesn't  care  to  see  you." 

"Did  she  tell  you  so?" 

"No ;  but  your  own  common-sense  might  tell 
you  so.  Considering  under  what  circum- 
stances you  left  the  house " 

"Under  what  circumstances  did  I  leave  the 
house,  Conrad  Hill?" 


228  the    Store    Boy. 

"You  know  better  than  I  can  tell  you." 

"Still,  I  should  like  to  have  you  tell  me." 

"You  stole  an  opera  glass,  and  pawned  it 
at  Simpson's.  Of  course  Cousin  Hamilton 
didn't  want  you  in  the  house  after  that." 

"No,  I  shouldn't  think  she  would." 

"And  yet  you  have  come  back?" 

"Yes,  because  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
loss  of  the  opera  glass." 

"Who  did  take  it,  then?" 

"Don't  you  know?"  asked  Ben,  significantly. 

The  blood  rushed  to  Conrad's  face. 

"Yes,  I  do  know,"  he  answered  angrily. 
"You  did  it,  and  that's  why  Cousin  Hamilton 
bounced  you." 

"I  will  wait  and  ask  her  if  that  is  the  case. 
I  have  come  to  see  her  upon  other  business." 

"What  is  this?"  asked  a  clear,  cold  voice. 

Looking  back,  Conrad  saw  that  it  was  his 
mother  who  had  approached  unheard. 

"I'm  glad  you've  come,  ma,  to  send  away 
this  boy,"  he  said. 

"Ben  Barclay  here!"  she  exclaimed,  recoil- 
ing a  step. 

"He  says  he  wants  to  see  Cousin  Hamilton." 

"It  is  quite  unnecessary,"  said  Mrs.  Hill, 
frigidly.  "I  represent  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and  I 
tell  him  that  his  presence  is  unwelcome!" 

Just  then,  the  door  being  still  open,  Mrs. 
Hamilton  herself  ascended  the  steps. 

"Whose  presence  is  unwelcome?"  she  asked. 

"Mine,  so  Mrs.  Hill  says,"  responded  Ben. 


The    Store    Boy.  229 

"Ben,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Come  up  to 
my  office.  I  want  you,  too,"  she  added,  ad- 
dressing Conrad. 

"May  I  come,  too?"  asked  Mrs.  Hill,  look- 
ing pale  and  angry. 

"Yes,  your  presence  is  desirable." 

Then  all  went  up  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's  room 
on  the  second  floor. 


230  The    Store    Boy. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

TURNING     THE     TABLES. 

"Now,  Conrad,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton,  "will 
you  tell  me  by  what  authority  you  send  away 
my  visitors?" 

"I  didn't  suppose  you  would  want  to  see 
Ben,"  stammered  Conrad. 

"Why  not?" 

"After  what  he  has  done?" 

"What  has  he  done?" 

"He  stole  your  opera  glass  and  pawned  it." 

"You  are  mistaken.  It  was  stolen  by  a  dif- 
ferent person." 

Conrad  started  uneasily,  and  his  mother, 
who  was  not  in  the  secret,  looked  surprised. 

"I  know  who  took  the  opera  glass,"  contin- 
ued Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"Who  was  it?"  asked  the  housekeeper. 

"Your  son,  I  regret  to  say." 

"This  is  a  slander!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hill, 
angrily.  "Cousin  Hamilton,  that  boy  has  de- 
ceived you." 

"My  information  did  not  come  from  Ben, 
if  that  is  what  you  mean," 


The    Store    Boy.  231 

"My  son  would  be  incapable  of  stealing," 
continued  Mrs.  Hill. 

"I  should  be  glad  to  think  so.  It  can  easily 
be  settled.  Let  Conrad  go  with  me  to-mor- 
row to  the  pawnbroker  from  whom  I  recovered 
the  glass,  and  see  if  he  recognizes  him." 

"He  would  be  sure  to  say  it  was  me,"  stam- 
mered Conrad. 

"At  any  rate  he  told  me  it  was  not  Ben, 
who  made  no  opposition  to  accompanying  me." 

"I  see  there  is  a  plot  against  my  poor  boy," 
said  Mrs.  Hill,  bitterly. 

"On  the  contrary,  I  shall  be  glad  to  believe 
him  innocent.  But  there  is  another  matter 
that  requires  investigation.  Conrad,  here  is 
a  letter  which  has  come  for  you.  Are  you  will- 
ing that  I  should  open  and  read  it?" 

As  she  produced  the  letter,  Conrad  was  pan- 
ic-stricken. He  saw  that  it  was  from  the 
brokers,  through  whom  he  had  purchased 
stock,  and  he  knew  that  his  dishonesty  would 
come  to  light. 

"I  think  it  is  only  a  circular,"  he  said,  in 
confusion. 

"Then  you  can  have  no  objection  to  my  read- 
ing it?"  " 

"I  don't  like  to  show  my  letters,"  said  Con- 
rad, sullenly. 

"The  boy  is  right,"  said  his  mother,  always 
ready  to  back  up  her  son. 

"I  have  good  reason  for  wishing  to  know  the 
contents  of  the  letter,"  said  Mrs.  Hamilton, 


232  The    Store    Boy. 

sternly.  "I  will  not  open  it  unless  Conrad 
consents,  but  I  will  call  on  the  brokers  and 
question  them  as  to  their  motive  in  address- 
ing it  to  a  boy." 

Conrad  was  silent.  He  saw  that  there  was 
no  escape  for  him. 

"Shall  I  read  it?"  asked  Mrs.  Hamilton. 

"Yes,"  answered  Conrad,  feebly. 

The  letter  was  opened. 

It  ran  thus : 


"MR.  CONRAD  HILL: 

"You  will  be  kind  enough  to  call  at  our  of- 
fice at  once,  and  pay  commission  due  us  for 
buying  and  selling  fifty  shares  Pacific  Mail. 
The  fall  in  the  price  of  the  stock,  as  we  have 
already  notified  you,  exhausted  the  money  you 
placed  in  our  hands  as  margin. 
"Yours  respectfully, 

"BIRD  &  BRANT." 

Not  only  Conrad,  but  his  mother,  looked 
panic-stricken,  as  Mrs.  Hamilton  read  the  let- 
ter aloud. 

"So  you  have  been  speculating  in  stocks," 
she  said.  "How  much  money  did  you  leave 
with  these  brokers?" 

"Fifty  dollars,"  answered  Conrad. 

"The  sum  you  received  from  Mr.  Clark,  of 
Third  Avenue,  as  rent?" 

"Yes?"  answere<J  Conrad?  desperately. 


The    Store    Boy.  233 

"You  told  me  he  didn't  pay  you." 

"I  expected  to  have  the  money  to  pay  back 
by  Saturday." 

"That  is,  you  made  sure  of  making  a  profit 
on  your  stock.  Instead  of  this,  you  lost  the 
fifty  dollars,  and  are  still  owing  the  brokers 
twelve  dollars  and  a  half?" 

"Yes." 

"You  can't  very  well  charge  Ben  with  this 
piece  of  dishonesty,  as  he  was  absent  from 
the  city." 

"I  hope,  Cousin  Hamilton,  you  won't  be  too 
hard  on  the  poor  boy,"  said  the  housekeeper. 
"He  thought  he  would  be  able  to  replace  the 
money." 

"A  very  dangerous  delusion !  Yet  I  can  find 
some  excuse  for  this  fault,  grave  as  it  is.  There 
is  another  which  I  can  not  so  readily  forgive 
— one  which  he  shares  with  you,  his  mother." 

A  red  spot  glowed  in  the  pale  cheeks  of  Mrs. 
Hill. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  she  said. 

"I  mean  that  you  shall,"  said  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton, severely.  "You  and  Conrad  have  done 
your  best  to  prejudice  me  against  Ben,  and 
stooped  to  unworthy  means." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  housekeeper, 
quickly,  showing  some  evidence  of  agitation. 

"I  have  learned  that  the  letter  which  lured 
Ben  to  a  gambling  house  was  concocted  be- 
tween you.  The  letter  I  have  in  my  posses- 


234  The    Store    Boy. 

"Who  told  you  such  a  falsehood?  If  it  is 
Ben " 

"It  is  not  Ben,  Mrs.  Hill.  He  is  as  much 
surprised  as  you  are  to  learn  it  now.  The 
letter  I  submitted  to  an  expert,  who  has  pos- 
itively identified  the  handwriting  as  yours, 
Mrs.  Hill.  You  were  very  persistent  in  your 
attempts  to  make  me  believe  that  Ben  was 
addicted  to  frequenting  gambling  houses." 

"I  see  you  are  determined  to  believe  me 
guilty,"  said  Mrs.  Hill.  "Perhaps  you  think 
I  know  about  the  opera  glass  and  this  stock- 
gambling?" 

"I  have  no  evidence  of  it,  but  I  know  enough 
to  justify  me  in  taking  a  decisive  step." 

Mrs.  Hill  listened  apprehensively. 

"It  is  this:  you  and  Conrad  must  leave  my 
house.  I  can  no  longer  tolerate  your  pres- 
ence here." 

"You  send  us  out  to  starve?"  said  the  house- 
keeper, bitterly. 

"No;  I  will  provide  for  you.  I  will  allow 
you  fifty  dollars  a  month  and  Conrad  half 
as  much,  and  you  can  board  where  you  please." 

"While  that  boy  usurps  our  place?"  said 
Mrs.  Hill,  bitterly. 

"That  is  a  matter  to  be  decided  between  Ben 
and  myself." 

"We  will  go  at  once,"  said  the  housekeeper. 

"I  don't  require  it.  You  can  stay  here  till 
you  have  secured  a  satisfactory  boarding 
place." 


The    Store    Boy.  235 

But  Conrad  aiid  his  mother  left  the  house 
the  next  morning.  They  saw  that  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton was  no  longer  to  be  deceived,  and  they 
could  gain  nothing  by  staying.  There  was  an 
angry  scene  between  the  mother  and  son. 

"Were  you  mad,  Conrad,"  said  his  mother, 
"  to  steal,  where  you  were  sure  to  be  found  out? 
It  is  your  folly  that  has  turned  Cousin  Ham- 
ilton against  us." 

"No;  it  is  that  boy.  I'd  like  to  wring  his 
neck!" 

"I  hope  he'll  come  to  some  bad  end,"  said 
Mrs.  Hill,  malignantly.  "If  he  had  not  come 
to  the  house  none  of  this  would  have  hap- 
pened." 

Meanwhile  Ben  and  his  patroness  had  a  sat- 
isfactory conversation. 

"I  hope  you  are  satisfied  with  my  manage- 
ment, Mrs.  Hamilton?"  said  our  hero. 

"You  have  done  wonderfully,  Ben.  Through 
you  I  am  the  richer  by  thirty-five  thousand 
dollars  at  the  very  least,  for  the  farm  would 
have  been  dear  at  five  thousand,  whereas  it 
was  sold  for  forty  thousand." 

"I  am  very  glad  you  are  satisfied." 

"You  shall  have  reason  to  be  glad.  I  intend 
to  pay  you  a  commission  for  selling  the  place." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Ben,  joyfully. 

He  thought  it  possible  Mrs.  Hamilton  might 
give  him  fifty  dollars,  and  this  would  have 
been  very  welcome. 

"Under  the  circumstances,  I  shall  allow  you 


236  The    Store    Boy. 

an  extra  commission — say  ten  per  cent.  How 
much  will  ten  per  cent,  amount  to  on  forty 
thousand  dollars ?" 

"Four  thousand,"  answered  Ben,  mechanic- 
ally. 

"Consider  yourself  worth  four  thousand  dol- 
lars, then." 

"But  this  is  too  much,  Mrs.  Hamilton,"  said 
Ben,  scarcely  crediting  his  good  fortune. 

"Then  give  half  of  it  to  your  mother,"  said 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  smiling. 

"Now  we  can  pay  off  the  mortgage!"  ex- 
claimed Ben,  joyfully. 

"What  mortgage?" 

Ben  told  the  story,  and  it  aroused  the  lively 
sympathy  of  his  patroness. 

"As  soon  as  the  purchase-money  is  paid," 
she  said,  "you  shall  have  your  commission,  and 
sooner  if  it  is  needed." 


The    Store    Boy.  237 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A  LETTER  FROM  ROSE  GARDINER. 

BEN  resumed  his  place  as  the  secretary  and 
confidential  clerk  of  Mrs.  Hamilton.  He  found 
his  position  more  agreeable  when  Mrs.  Hill 
and  Conrad  were  fairly  out  of  the  house.  In 
place  of  the  first  a  pleasant-faced  German 
woman  was  engaged,  and  there  were  no  more 
sour  looks  and  sneering  words. 

Of  course  Ben  kept  up  a  weekly  correspond- 
ence with  his  mother.  He  did  not  tell  her 
the  extent  of  his  good  fortune — he  wished  that 
to  be  a  surprise,  when  the  time  came.  From 
his  mother,  too,  he  received  weekly  letters,  tell- 
ing him  not  unfrequently  how  she  missed  him, 
though  she  was  glad  he  was  doing  well. 

One  day  beside  his  mother's  letter  was  an- 
other. He  did  not  know  the  handwriting,  but, 
looking  eagerly  to  the  end,  he  saw  the  name 
of  Rose  Gardiner. 

"How  kind  of  Rose  to  write  to  mei,"  he 
thought,  with  a  smile  of  pleasure.  As  we  are 
specially  privileged,  we  will  look  over  Ben's 
shoulder,  and  read  the  letter : 


238  The    Store    Boy. 

"DEAR  BEN:  I  dare  say  you  will  be  sur- 
prised to  hear  from  me,  but  I  hope  my  let- 
ter will  not  be  unwelcome.  First  of  all,  let 
me  tell  you  how  much  we  all  miss  you.  In  a 
small  village  like  Pentonville  we  can't  spare 
any  one  that  is  agreeable." 

"I  am  glad  Rose  thinks  me  agreeable,"  com- 
mented Ben.  He  read  on: 

"There  are  some  we  can  spare.  One  of  them 
is  Tom  Davenport.  He  is  getting  more  hor- 
rid every  day.  He  sees  fit  to  bestow  a  good 
deal  of  his  company  on  me,  though  goodness 
knows  I  don't  want  him.  He  hasn't  forgot- 
ten you.  He  often  speaks  of  you,  and  always 
with  a  sneer.  He  pretended  that  some  one 
had  seen  you  selling  papers  in  front  of  the 
Astor  House,  and  hinted  that  you  slept  at  the 
Newsboys'  Lodging  House.  I  told  him  that 
even  if  it  were  true  I  shouldn't  think  any  the 
less  of  you ;  but  I  told  him  it  was  not  true.  I 
told  him  you  had  been  out  West  to  transact 
some  business  for  a  lady.  'More  likely  he 
tramped  out  there,'  he  said.  If  he  thinks  I 
like  him  any  better  for  running  you  down  he 
is  very  much  mistaken. 

"There's  another  person  we  could  spare  very 
well  from  the  village,  and  that  is  the  man  Kirk, 
a  relation  of  Mr.  Davenport,  who  is  keeping 
the  store.  He  doesn't  know  much  about  store- 
keeping,  and  is  so  disagreeable  that  people 


The    Store    Boy.  239 

don't  like  to  trade  with  him.  I  shouldn't  be 
at  all  surprised  if  some  one  started  an  opposi- 
tion store.  I  wish  they  would. 

"I  often  go  to  see  your  mother.  She  is  well, 
but  I  think  she  is  worrying  about  the  house. 
She  says  Squire  Davenport  will  foreclose  the 
mortgage,  unless  she  can  pay  seven  hundred 
dollars,  and  interest,  on  the  twentieth  of  De- 
cember. You  know  that  is  only  ten  days  off. 
I  saw  the  squire  and  Mr.  Kirk  passing  the 
house  yesterday  and  looking  toward  it.  I 
believe  it  is  to  be  enlarged  by  the  addition  of 
two  rooms  when  the  Kirks  get  it.  I  do  wish 
I  had  the  money,  and  I  would  thwart  their 
meanness ;  but  all  I  have  in  the  world  is  a  dol- 
lar and  seventy-five  cents,  and  you,  I  suppose, 
are  not  much  richer." 

"What  would  Eose  say,"  Ben  asked  himself, 
"if  she  knew  that  I  am  worth  four  thousand 
dollars?" 

The  money  had  been  paid  to  Ben,  and  was 
deposited  in  four  different  savings-banks,  till 
he  could  decide  on  a  better  investment.  So 
he  was  quite  sure  of  having  more  than  enough 
to  pay  off  the  mortgage  and  redeem  the  cot- 
tage. 

"Since  mother  is  worrying,  I  must  write  and 
set  her  mind  at  rest,"  he  decided. 

He  wrote  accordingly,  telling  his  mother  not 
to  feel  anxious,  for  he  had  wealthy  friends, 
and  he  felt  sure,  with  their  help,  of  paying  off 


240  The    Store    Boy. 

the  mortgage.  "But  don't  tell  anybody  this/' 
he  continued,  "for  I  want  to  give  the  squire 
and  Mr.  Kirk  a  disagreeable  surprise.  I  shall 
come  to  Pentonville  two  days  before,  and  may 
stay  a  week." 

He  had  already  spoken  to  Mrs.  Hamilton 
about  having  this  week  as  a  vacation. 


The    Store    Boy.  241 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

BEN'S  VISIT  TO  PENTONVILLE. 

ON  the  eighteenth  of  December  Ben  arrived 
in  Pentonville.  It  was  his  first  visit  since  he 
went  up  to  New  York  for  good.  He  reached 
home  without  observation,  and  found  his 
mother  overjoyed  to  see  him  again. 

"It  has  seemed  a  long,  long  time  that  you 
have  been  away,  Ben,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  mother;  but  I  did  a  good  thing  in  go- 
ing to  New  York." 

"You  are  looking  well,  Ben,  and  you  have 
grown !" 

"Yes,  mother;  and  best  of  all,  I  have  pros- 
pered. Squire  Davenport  can't  have  the 
house !" 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,  Ben,  that  you  have 
the  money  to  pay  it  off?"  asked  his  mother, 
with  eager  hope. 

"Yes,  mother,  and,  better  still,  the  money  is 
my  own." 

"This  can't  be  true,  Ben!"  she  said,  incred- 
ulously. 

"Yes,  but  it  is  though !    You  are  to  ask  me 


242  The    Store    Boy. 

no  questions  till  after  the  twentieth.  Then  I 
will  tell  you  all." 

"I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  send  you  to  the 
store,  for  I  am  out  of  groceries." 

"I  will  go  with  pleasure.  I  want  to  see  how 
the  old  store  looks." 

"It  is  not  like  the  old  store.  Mr.  Kirk  is 
a  very  poor  business  man.  Wait,  and  I  will 
get  you  the  money." 

"Not  much,  mother,"  said  Ben,  laughing; 
"I've  got  plenty.  Now,  what  shall  I  get?" 

A  list  was  given,  and  Ben  started  for  the 
store. 

Mr.  Kirk  looked  up  in  surprise  as  he  en- 
tered. 

"You're  the  Barclay  boy,  ain't  you?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  thought  you  were  in  New  York." 

"I  was,  but  I  have  just  got  home." 

"Couldn't  make  it  go,  hey?" 

Ben  smiled,  but  did  not  answer. 

"I  may  give  you  something  to  do,"  said  Kirk, 
in  a  patronizing  tone.  "You've  been  employed 
in  this  store,  I  believe." 

"Yes,  I  was  here  some  months." 

"I'll  give  you  two  dollars  a  week." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Ben,  meekly,  "but  I  shall 
have  to  take  a  little  time  to  decide — say  the 
rest  of  the  week." 

"I  suppose  you  want  to  help  your  mother 
move?" 

"She  couldn't  move  alone." 


The    Store    Boy.  243 

"Very  well ;  you  can  begin  next  Monday." 

Mr.  Kirk  was  a  little  surprised  at  Ben's  lib- 
eral purchases,  for  he  bought  more  than  his 
mother  had  ordered. 

When  Ben  was  "going  home,  he  met  his  old 
enemy,  Tom  Davenport.  Tom's  eyes  lighted 
up  when  he  saw  Ben,  and  he  crossed  the  street 
to  speak  to  him.  It  may  be  mentioned  that, 
though  Ben  had  a  new  and  stylish  suit  of 
clothes,  he  came  home  in  the  old  suit  he  had 
worn  away,  and  his  appearance,  therefore,  by 
no  means  betokened  prosperity. 

"So  you're  back  again !"  said  Tom,  abruptly. 

"Yes." 

"I  always  said  you'd  come  back." 

"Did  you?  I  always  expected  to.  I  didn't 
mean  to  desert  my  mother." 

"I  understand.  You  don't  seem  to  have 
made  a  fortune." 

"What  do  you  judge  from?" 

"From  your  shabby  clothes." 

"Don't  they  look  well  enough?" 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  they  will  do — for  you.  When 
I  go  home,  I'll  look  over  my  old  suits,  and 
see  if  I  can't  find  you  one." 

"You  are  unexpectedly  kind,  Tom,"  said 
Ben,  amused. 

"I  like  to  be  charitable,"  said  Tom. 

Ben  knew  very  well  that  Tom's  offer  was 
prompted  by  very  different  considerations,  but 
he  did  not  care  to  reveal  his  secret,  and  ac- 
cepted his  patronage  good-naturedly. 


244  The    Store    Boy. 

"Are  you  going  to  look  for  something  to 
do?"  Tom  asked. 

"Mr.  Kirk  has  offered  me  a  place  in  the 
store." 

"How  much  pay?" 

"Two  dollars  a  week." 

"You'd  better  take  it." 

"I  hardly  think  I  can  work  at  that  figure," 
said  Ben,  mildly. 

"Kirk  won't  pay  you  any  more." 

"I'll  think  of  it.  By  the  way,  Tom,  call 
around  and  see  me  some  time." 

"I  hardly  think  I  shall  have  time,"  said  Torn, 
haughtily.  "He  talks  as  if  I  were  his  equal !" 
he  said  to  himself. 

"Well,  good-afternoon.  Remember  me  to 
your  father." 

Tom  stared  at  Ben  in  surprise.  Really  the 
store  boy  was  getting  very  presumptuous,  he 
thought. 


The    Store    Boy.  245 


CHAPTEK  XXXIX. 

CONCLUSION. 

ON  the  evening  of  the  nineteenth  of  Decem- 
ber Ben  stood  on  the  piazza  of  the  village  hotel 
when  the  stage  returned  from  the  depot.  He 
examined  anxiously  the  passengers  who  got 
out.  His  eyes  lighted  up  joyfully  as  he  recog- 
nized in  one  the  man  he  was  looking  for. 

"Mr.  Dinsmore,"  he  said,  coming  forward 
hastily. 

"You  see  I  have  kept  my  word,"  said  Har- 
vey Dinsmore,  with  a  smile. 

"I  feared  you  would  not  come." 

"I  wished  to  see  the  discomfiture  of  our 
friend  Squire  Davenport.  So  to-morrow  is  the 
day?" 

"Yes." 

"I  should  like  to  be  on  hand  when  the  squire 
calls." 

"That  will  be  at  twelve  o'clock.  My  mother 
has  received  a  note  from  him  fixing  that  hour." 

"Then  I  will  come  over  at  half-past  eleven 
if  you  will  allow  me." 

"Come ;  we  will  expect  you." 


246  The    Store    Boy. 

"And  how  have  you  fared  since  I  saw  you, 
my  young  friend?" 

"I  have  been  wonderfully  fortunate,  but  I 
have  kept  my  good  fortune  a  secret  from  all, 
even  my  mother.  It  will  come  out  to-mor- 
row." 

"Your  mother  can  feel  quite  at  ease  about 
the  mortgage." 

"Yes;  even  if  you  had  not  come  I  am  able 
to  pay  it." 

"Whew !  then  you  have  indeed  been  fortunate 
for  a  boy.  I  suppose  you  borrowed  the 
money?" 

"No;  I  earned  it." 

"Evidently  you  were  born  to  succeed.  Will 
you  take  supper  with  me?" 

"Thank  you.  Mother  will  expect  me  at 
home." 

At  half-past  eleven  the  next  forenoon  the 
stranger  called  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Barclay. 
He  was  admitted  by  Ben. 

"Mother,"  said  Ben,  "this  is  Mr.  Harvey 
Dinsmore." 

"I  believe  we  have  met  before,"  said  Dins- 
more,  smiling.  "I  fear  my  first  visit  was  not 
welcome.  To-day  I  come  in  more  respectable 
guise  and  as  a  friend." 

"You  are  welcome,  sir,"  said  the  widow, 
courteously.  "I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  should 
hardly  have  known  you." 

"I  take  that  as  a  compliment.  I  am  a  tramp 
no  longer,  but  a  respectable  and,  I  may  add, 


The    Store    Boy.  247 

well-to-do  citizen.     Now  I  have  a  favor  to  ask." 

"Name  it,  sir." 

"Place  me,  if  convenient,  where  I  can  hear 
the  interview  between  Mr.  Davenport  and 
yourself  without  myself  being  seen." 

Ben  conducted  Dinsmore  into  the  kitchen 
opening  out  of  the  sitting-room,  and  gave  him 
a  chair. 

At  five  minutes  to  twelve  there  was  a  loud 
knock  at  the  outer  door,  and  Ben  admitted 
Squire  Davenport. 

"So  you  are  home  again,  Benjamin,"  said 
the  squire.  "Had  enough  of  the  city?" 

"I  am  taking  a  vacation.  I  thought  mother 
would  need  me  to-day." 

"She  will — to  help  her  move." 

"Step  in,  sir." 

Squire  Davenport,  with  the  air  of  a  master, 
followed  Ben  into  the  sitting-room.  Mrs.  Bar- 
clay sat  quietly  at  the  table  with  her  sewing  in 
hand. 

"Good-day,  widow,"  said  the  squire,  patron- 
izingly. 

He  was  rather  surprised  at  her  quiet,  un- 
ruffled demeanor.  He  expected  to  find  her 
tearful  and  sad. 

"Good-day,  Squire  Davenport,"  she  said, 
quietly.  "Is  your  family  well?" 

"Zounds!  she  takes  it  coolly,"  thought  the 
squire. 

"Very  well"  he  said,  dryly.  "I  suppose  you 
know  my  business?" 


248  The    Store    Boy. 

"You  come  about  the  mortgage?" 

"Yes;  have  you  decided  where  to  move?" 

"My  mother  does  not  propose  to  move,"  said 
Ben,  calmly. 

"Oho!  that's  your  opinion,  is  it?  I  appre- 
hend it  is  not  for  you  to  say." 

"That  is  where  I  differ  from  you.  We  in- 
tend to  stay." 

"Without  consulting  me,  eh?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  are  impudent,  boy!"  said  the  squire, 
waxing  wrathful.  "I  shall  give  you  just  three, 
days  to  find  another  home,  though  I  could 
force  you  to  leave  at  once." 

"This  house  belongs  to  my  mother." 

"You  are  mistaken.     It  belongs  to  me." 

"When  did  you  buy  it?" 

"You  are  talking  foolishly.  I  hold  a  mort- 
gage for  seven  hundred  dollars  on  the  property, 
and  you  can't  pay  it.  I  am  willing  to  cancel 
the  mortgage  and  pay  your  mother  three  hun- 
dred dollars  cash  for  the  place." 

"It  is  worth  a  good  deal  more." 

"Who  will  pay  more?"  demanded  the  squire, 
throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair. 

"I  will,"  answered  Bei?. 

"Ho,  ho!  that's  a  good  joke,"  said  the  squire. 
"Why,  you  are  not  worth  five  dollars  in  the 
world." 

"It  doesn't  matter  whether  I  am  or  not.  My 
mother  won't  sell," 


The    Store    Boy.  249 

"Then  pay  the  mortgage,"  said  the  squire, 
angrily. 

"I  am  prepared  to  do  so.  Have  you  a  release 
with  you?" 

Squire  Davenport  stared  at  Ben  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"Enough  of  this  folly !"  he  said,  sternly.  "I 
am  not  in  the  humor  for  jokes." 

"Squire  Davenport,  I  am  not  joking.  I 
have  here  money  enough  to  pay  the  mortgage," 
and  Ben  drew  from  his  pocket  a  thick  roll  of 
bills. 

"Where  did  you  get  that  money?"  asked 
Squire  Davenport,  in  evident  discomfiture. 

"I  don't  think  it  necessary  to  answer  that 
question;  but  there  is  another  matter  I  wish 
to  speak  to  you  about.  When  will  you  be 
ready  to  pay  the  sum  you  owe  mv  father's 
estate?" 

Squire  Davenport  started  violently. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded, 
hoarsely. 

Harvey  Dinsmore  entered  the  room  from  the 
kitchen  at  this  point. 

"I  will  answer  that  question,"  he  said. 
"Ben  refers  to  a  note  for  a  thousand  dollars 
signed  by  you,  which  was  found  on  his  father's 
person  at  the  time  of  his  death." 

"No  such  note  is  in  existence,"  said  the 
squire,  triumphantly.  He  remembered  that 
he  had  burned  it. 

"You  are  mistaken.     That  note  you  burned 


250  The    Store    Boy. 

was  only  a  copy!     I  have  the  original  with 


"You  treacherous  rascal!"  exclaimed  the 
squire,  in  great  excitement. 

"When  I  have  dealings  with  a  knave  I  am 
not  very  scrupulous,"  said  Dinsmore,  coolly. 

"I  won't  pay  the  note  you  have  trumped  up. 
This  is  a  conspiracy." 

"Then,"  said  Ben,  "the  note  will  be  placed  in 
the  hands  of  a  lawyer." 

"This  is  a  conspiracy  to  prevent  my  foreclos- 
ing the  mortgage.  But  it  won't  work,"  said 
the  squire,  angrily. 

"There  you  are  mistaken.  I  will  pay  the 
mortgage  now  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
and  let  the  other  matter  be  settled  hereafter. 
Please  prepare  the  necessary  papers." 

Suddenly  the  squire  did  as  requested.  The 
money  was  paid  over,  and  Ben,  turning  to  his 
mother,  said : 

"Mother,  the  house  is  ours  once  more  with- 
out incumbrance." 

"Thank  God !"  ejaculated  the  widow. 

"Mr.  Dinsmore,"  said  Squire  Davenport, 
when  this  business  was  concluded,  "may  I  have 
a  private  word  with  you?  Please  accompany 
me  to  my  house." 

"As  you  please,  sir." 

When  they  emerged  into  the  street  Squire 
Davenport  said : 

"Of  course  this  is  all  a  humbug.  You  can't 
have  the  original  with  you?" 


The    Store    Boy.  251 

"But  I  have,  sir.  You  should  have  looked 
more  closely  at  the  one  you  burned." 

"Can't  we  compromise  this  matter?"  asked 
the  squire,  in  an  insinuating  tone. 

"No,  sir,"  said  Dinsmore,  with  emphasis. 
"I  have  got  through  with  rascality.  You  can't 
tempt  me.  If  I  were  as  hard  up  as  when  I 
called  upon  you  before,  I  might  not  be  able  to 
resist  you;  but  I  am  worth  over  ten  thousand 
dollars,  and " 

"Have  you  broken  into  a  bank?"  asked 
Squire  Davenport,  with  a  sneer. 

"I  have  come  into  a  legacy.  To  cut  matters 
short,  it  will  be  for  your  interest  to  pay  this 
claim,  and  not  allow  this  story  to  be  made 
known.  It  would  damage  your  reputation." 

In  the  end  this  was  what  the  squire  was 
forced  very  unwillingly  to  do.  The  amount  he 
had  to  pay  to  the  estate  of  the  man  whose 
family  he  had  sought  to  defraud  was  nearly 
fifteen  hundred  dollars.  This,  added  to  Ben's 
four  thousand,  made  the  family  very  comfort- 
able. Mr.  Kirk  was  compelled  to  look  else- 
where for  a  house.  No  one  was  more  cha- 
grined at  the  unexpected  issue  of  the  affair 
than  Tom  Davenport,  whose  mean  and  jealous 
disposition  made  more  intense  his  hatred  of 

Ben. 

******* 

Several  years  have  elapsed.  Ben  is  in  the 
office  of  a  real  estate  lawyer  in  New  York,  as 
junior  partner.  All  Mrs.  Hamilton's  business 


252  The    Store    Boy. 

is  in  his  hands,  and  it  is  generally  thought  that 
he  will  receive  a  handsome  legacy  from  her 
eventually.  Mrs.  Barclay  prefers  to  live  in 
Pentonville,  but  Ben  often  visits  her.  When- 
ever he  goes  to  Pentonville  he  never  fails  to 
call  on  Rose  Gardiner,  now  a  beautiful  young 
lady  of  marriageable  age.  She  has  lost  none 
of  her  partiality  for  Ben,  and  it  is  generally 
understood  that  they  are  engaged.  I  have 
reason  to  think  that  the  rumor  is  correct,  and 
that  Eose  will  change  her  name  to  Barclay 
within  a  year.  Nothing  could  be  more  agree- 
able to  Mrs.  Barclay,  who  has  long  looked  upon 
Rose  as  a  daughter. 

Tom  Davenport  is  now  in  the  city,  but  his 
course  is  far  from  creditable.  His  father  has 
more  than  once  been  compelled  to  pay  his 
debts,  and  has  angrily  refused  to  do  so  again. 
In  fact,  he  has  lost  a  large  part  of  his  once 
handsome  fortune,  and  bids  fair  to  close  his 
life  in  penury.  Success  has  come  to  Ben  be- 
cause he  deserved  it,  and  well-merited  retribu- 
tion to  Tom  Davenport.  Harvey  Dinsmore, 
once  given  over  to  evil  courses,  has  redeemed 
himself,  and  is  a  reputable  business  man  in 
New  York.  Mrs.  Hamilton  still  lives,  happy 
in  the  success  of  her  protege.  Conrad  and  his 
mother  have  tried  more  than  once  to  regain 
their  positions  in  her  household,  but  in  vain. 
None  of  my  young  readers  will  pity  them. 
They  are  fully  rewarded  for  their  treachery. 

THE    END. 


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